Forevermore
by LanceTheTurtle1
Summary: Inside Mello's tortured mind, growing insane and evil, lies a desire for the boy he swears to kill. The flames that consume his heart have been longing for their tendor... MxN COMPLETE
1. Disclaimer

/\Disclaimer:/

I do not own Death Note. I do not own any of the characters of Death Note, nor do I own a fabulous mansion like Wammy's. I forgot this disclaimer so…

I respect copyrights, Don't remove my story, My views are not that of the original authors… Death Note belongs to Ohba and Obata, two dudes with practically the same name and no intentions of this yaoi-pairing epidemic.

*On a further note, m'apologies, but the abbreviations in the summary mean

**MxN** ~ as you should know, is Mello/Near, referring to the yaoi pairing of Mello and Near. Obviously, due to the rating of the story, there will be some more graphic scenes, and they will _always involve Mello and Near as the key players._ So if you are not ready for that, then this is not the fic to read.

Just clearing that up, cuz I changed the summary. **

We done here?

/Cuz I got a story to tell.


	2. Here Comes Mello

_Mon amour, je vais attendre, je vais chercher et je vais t'aimer._

_Pour toujours._

**Forevermore** – Chapitre Une/_One_

Mello

It's always fucking raining here in London.

I always thought that living in Britain meant you could see Big Ben outside your bedroom window, and you'd be able to go outside and get fish and chips at any corner. That red trolleys would circle the streets and every person you'd meet would call you "governor" in that stupefying accent, just like Monty Python in those movies that came on the orphanage's primitive satellite television. I never could have imagined that when I was notified that I was moving to London, England after I served and sent THREE high school and college-level standardized tests to the moon that I would get this as a reimbursement. Rain dripping through my window cracks, a house full of inadequate, clingy orphans, this competitive race. And …most of all… him…

I was told that an interest was taken in me as a prodigious genius. Los Angeles bred and beautiful enough to be Heidi Klum's child, as I've been told, I'm sure that if I was a natural genius, a gift from God; somebody… like my family… would have noticed and reaped me for all the fame I could have possibly given them. I mean, it's LOS ANGELES. Who isn't a superficial sleazebag in the 90210? I was aware I had the capability. I just wasn't getting taught the material, and no one had the initiative to give us a pre-IQ test or something, so who could've known? But when kindergarten came around and I was skipping grade after grade after grade because I could read and write and do arithmetic, there was suspicions.

And that's how, in the fourth grade, six years old and oh-so impressionable; I was shipped off to England, the path ahead seemingly bright and glamorous. I thought I was headed to the happiest place on Earth.

All I can say is I wish I knew what I was getting into when I accepted the application. I wish I knew just what kind of institutionalized, Caste System, stringent, revolting hell I was signing myself up for. I wish I knew what I'd done and hadn't done here, I'd regret for the rest of my life. And it was all because of L.

* * *

Wednesday, January 18, 1995.

The day I first came to Wammy's.

It was snowing, and I had nothing to wear. After 3 days of plane rides, driving to different airports and changing multiple planes, I understood why people always griped about having to visit their families over the holidays. I moaned and rolled over in the seat of the cab. Once the last plane had landed and we had recovered my bags, my travel supervisor handed me off to another, older, and visibly grayer man. I became scared and nervous. I found myself hoping and praying that the considerate, suited man would come back, so that maybe this wasn't a trick and maybe… the bad things wouldn't happen again. I was terrified of leaving with him, and had no interest whatsoever in talking with him. But he bent down to my level and shook my hand, greeting me so formally and securely, "Good morning, Mr. Keehl. I'm Roger Ruvie." I knew he'd know my name, so that didn't faze me. I peered around his arm, to look at his pants. No bulge… so far, he passes… I narrowed my eyes at him, exercising my ability to hate through body language. But he only mockingly laughed at me and said, "I have no intention of misusing or abusing you, child. I'm your new headmaster." It was then that I relaxed my eyes and returned his handshake. "Guten Morgen, Herr Ruvie." He rolled his eyes at my German and replied tartly, "Ah, another trilingual smart-ass." I smiled cockily. "Oui, mais tu ne me sais pas que bien." This is where we shared an icy silence. I already knew then that he hated me. And, fittingly, the grin never disappeared from my face. I followed him out of the huge glass airport when he then led me to the car, where another official looking man waited and opened the door. I quickly looked behind me to see if maybe I was standing in front of some rich celebrity, prepared to move for Prince William or Olivia Newton-John or U2 and anyone else that lives in England. When the space behind me proved to be barren of famous blood, I looked at the man bewilderingly. "That's for US?" I blurted. The headmaster proceeded to smack me in the back of my head, shouting under his breath, "Not so loud, kid!" The man threw my luggage in the back seat and Roger followed suit, throwing me in the car.

Sitting up weakly after my face made amazing contact with the leather seat, I pouted, furious, for almost half an hour until Roger turned around in the passenger seat and asked me if I wanted to hear a story.

"What kind of story?" I retorted begrudgingly.

"One about a very brilliant man. One who would grow to be one of the most gifted geniuses and the very best detectives in the whole world," Roger summarized.

I'd never admit that he intrigued me. "Okay…" I said softly.

"O.K.?" He asked, puzzled.

"Tell me the story!" I snapped. Realizing my impoliteness –and his silence- I sighed and resolved with the dreaded word that wouldn't escape my lips for years to come. "Please?"

Satisfied, Ruvie began the tale. He told me all about L; fanciful stories that didn't escape me as highly exaggerated, but were, ahem, um, a foundation for inspiration anyway. Ruvie described the orphan's first day at Wammy's, how it was THE first day of Wammy's, and I pictured L, just the same as me, cold and shivering, holding Quillsh Wammy's finger with his small, childish hand, thumb in mouth, scared, but excited. I imagined that he felt like I did, and it calmed my nerves; gave me confidence to walk in there and be the best I could be.

Taking a deep, shaky, chilly breath, I followed Roger out of the car, luggage in hand. Despite the somewhat rough foundation we had already subconsciously agreed building our relationship on, I needed some support and there was no one else around. So… I grabbed his hand, never once glancing at him for approval. His hand was rough and warm, and for one moment, I remembered something happy. I quickly dismissed such thoughts. I had already vowed myself that with the death of my family, every memory of them, all of them, was to be omitted from my mind. Thinking of it was too painful; in more ways than branches on a tree. Walking down a spiraly sidewalk, we finally neared the building and my attention diverted from my thoughts as I looked forward. Rustic and huge, the building had HUGE windows, balconies, doors, and MULTIPLE chimney stacks. It was the first time I had seen a house made with red bricks and ivory and Italian glass and marble, all on the OUTSIDE! The thing looked like a mansion, to say the least and I staggered back, mouth agape. I gazed, astounded, at Roger, who seemed almost BORED. "THIS is it?" I sputtered.

"Shocked?" He said, as apathetic as I suspected.

I could only nod, but what did he expect? I'm an orphan from the slums of California. The best residence around where I lived was a top floor of a shabby apartment complex that would be lucky to have three rooms and practically impossible for it to be rat or cockroach or termite free. So I was completely unprepared to live in _this_.

Still practically paralyzed, I stumbled behind Roger, watching various children play in the snow. There was even a lake to ice-skate on! I didn't know how to skate, but I sure as hell was determined to try. I felt a new surge of energy and enlightenment as we entered the large building.

I should have expected the foyer to have an elegant chandelier and a high, HIGH ceiling. Speechless, again, I watched some older kids chase each other in the nearby hallway, laughing as if life couldn't be more perfect. There were large, curly stairs that you could trace with your finger when you looked up. "Wow…." I sighed. I felt just like Annie when she first got to the big billionaire Mr. Warbucks' house from the shabby orphanage she used to live in. I followed Roger into another hallway, made of solid hardwood so shiny I could see myself in it. He opened the door to a study, once again an ornate room in which I felt rightfully out of place. I shivered, somewhat wet from the snow, but mostly because it was freezing outside and I was too busy being awed and amazed by the lavishness of the mansion to realize I was practically glaciate.

While pondering over things to think about, I caught on to something strange. Despite the large amount of children, the place was eerily immaculate, no toys, no handprints, no stress lines anywhere. "I spoke too soon," I whispered to myself, bending down to pick up a toy train I almost stepped on. I placed it gently on a nearby bookshelf, but not before examining it out of boredom.

The first thing I noticed about this particular train was that it smelled strongly of milk and mint. It wasn't a good combination, and it sort of irritated my nose. I examined it, noticing that parts of it were made of real woods and metals, not just plastic, making it special. Especially to an orphan, one of the most underprivileged scum of the world. I fingered the wheel. Spun like a ballerina. A name was scrawled on the bottom – _**Rae** _– but it was practically illegible. Knowing who the owner was would require prior knowledge of the kinds of kids that lived in this mansion, and I had no such luck, so the chances of me ever delivering that train were slim to none. As you may have already assumed, I put it back. And I know what you're thinking. But it wasn't his. This was a long time before I even knew of his existence.

Plus, he didn't even smell like milk.

I was honored with the great privilege of NOT having Roger tour me around the building. He whined about how much he'd already done that day and while he took the liberty of filling out piles of wondrous paperwork, I was to explore the castle with a proper escort.

Of course, being strictly contrary, I decided to make the journey alone. After all, what kind of adventure is it when somebody's dogging you the whole damn time trying to get you to follow the rules?

I had to take my luggage up to my room. Like I said before, there wasn't much to lug, so it was an easy trip to make up the spiraly staircase. But how was I supposed to know what floor to take it to, never mind which room? I sighed and left my luggage at the top of the stairs, ready to march back down to meet my escort. When I turned around, a copper haired figure stood there, slumped against the front banister, seemingly engaged in something else. My heart raced as I realized my utter embarrassment. How he must have laughed to see me aimlessly wander up and down the staircase so cluelessly! I was nice and angry now, with myself and him, wondering why he didn't come get me or something, or maybe that he wasn't even my escort. Step after step, I questioned everything, analyzed everything and mentally spouted curse words I had overheard from my old headmaster. Finally making it down the fucking stairway to heaven, I turned towards the occupied kid at the end of the stairs, a bit out of breath, flustered and angry. After a few blips of the game he was so heavily fixated on, I heard a weird jingle and he moved his eyes up to me. He and I waited there for a while until I figured out he was waiting for me to say something first. Feeling dumb once again, I sighed. "Are you going to show me around this stupid building or what?" I commanded, but my facial expressions sang a different tune altogether. A frustrated, tired, cold boy who needed help barking commands was laughable. He grinned, satisfied and happy-go-lucky. This wasn't the cocky grin I was so used to sporting. But I smiled back like I usually do, and I knew already that this kid and I were gonna get along just fine. "So where are the bags, boss?" He asked jokingly. "On the top of the staircase." I replied, leaning against the banister as he was. "And what was your room number?" The game noises resumed as the boy tilted his head back down in concentration. "Ah…" I leafed through the pocket of my black jeans; the only pair at Goodwill, looking for the slip of paper Roger gave me. I felt a hand on my butt, a feeling all too familiar, as the comfort and friendliness drained from me and I glazed over. I turned around and slapped the perpetrator, none other than the redheaded kid. "Why the hell did you do that?" I growled, and the kid held up a slip of paper, stunned. His cheek began to turn red and the hate drained as fast as it filled. I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. The kid started laughing too and after a while, I could barely breathe and we both were gripping the banister, trying to stop our lungs from hurting so bad. "Stop…. Laughing!" I tried to yell, but my smile was betraying.

"No… you!" He retaliated and it didn't help at all. In fact, it just made laugh that much harder until I was on the floor in tears. "God, dude…. You're gonna…. Give me…a …heart…attack!" I laughed. It was a good fifteen minutes until we finally calmed down, smiling at each other and acting like old friends even though I didn't know the kid's name. And right on cue, the kid with the rusty hair color held out his hand and said, "Matt," smile ever present. And I returned the smile, but… what was I supposed to tell him my name was?

I remembered Roger specifically telling me never to tell anyone in the orphanage my real name and that an alias was crucial to the detective career. He said most kids pick things that have some emotional significance to them, like Cycle, or the first letter of their name, like L. Another popular thing to do was to take a few letters of a word and rearrange them or change/omit a letter, like Evyn or Leon.

I didn't want to do that. I wanted the name to be much cooler than anyone else's. But I didn't get any time to think about it and now that I had to tell somebody my name, my newly-coined, super cool alias, I was stuck having to improvise.

I ran through every emotion that started with the letter M. I didn't include this false significance until later, but I'm somewhat of an emotional person, and that could be the reason for the immediate decision on emotions.

Mad

Martyr (ew, no.)

Malevolent

Mimic

Mockery

Magic?

Me…

Mellow…

And then it hit me. Omit the 'w' and…

Mello…

Whatever, it sounded cool at the time and I was running out of seconds.

"Mello!" I concluded, and I took the boy's hand. We shook once and only once as I smiled proudly at my name choice.

It was done. I was Mello.

"Welcome to the orphanage, Mello."

* * *

_Chapitre Fin._

* * *

Hey guys, hope you liked Chapter One!

I mean this in all honesty when I say excuse my French, cuz I'm practicing. I'm in 2nd year right now, so I kinda want to enhance it for next year. If my French grammar is ever incorrect, can somebody please review and correct it for me? That's all I ask, and it ain't much right?

So please, if you like it then you shoulda put a review on it, oh oh oh!

~Sam

_Thanks for reading, and stick around. It gets better with age. (:_

_EDIT: ..How__ did I miss that? I'm getting very flaky these days... Thanks ITILY, for pointing out my screw-up~ _

_I'd say cookies for all, but then I'd sound very fangirlish and therefore, Misa-like. So. Guns for the lot of you. _

_~ Sam_


	3. Here Comes Near

_Ma coeur, tu es la, mais me ame n'est pas… Tu as me consolide, mais tu as me blesse aussi…_

**Forevermore** – Chapitre Deux/_Two_

Still Mello

It'd been about two years since I first arrived at Wammy's, and I had

created an empire. The phrase it's lonely at the top didn't hold any effect there. The kids hated me, yet admired me. I was rude and inconsiderate, not to mention temperamental. However, I was, and still am, aware of this charisma of mine, the power I have over these kids. I was lively and fun, and even though I teased and taunted, there was this everlasting spark that bonded us. They would follow me no matter what, looking up to me wondering if they did rights in my eyes, and that I knew.

For that while, I was number one, after all.

September 21, 1997

It was an ideal, autumn day when he came. The wind whistled through the vivid red-orange and auburn leaves, the children laughed as they bounded into piles upon piles of that foliage, the grass was yellowing, the sky was clear, the air was crisp, and everything was perfect. It was as if it were fashioned specifically for his arrival.

I really should have taken that as an omen.

I didn't want to go outside that day, I think we had some project to do and I wanted to get my research done early. I always did something extra, added flavor and emotion to my products and that, I think even to this day, was the reason I stayed at the top so long. So, being one of the only people inside besides a few girls and a chubby kid whose name I cannot remember, I got to see him first.

I was going upstairs to retrieve a book vital to my report when I heard this familiar screech of brakes. My ears perked up and I turned my head towards the door. I can't help it, I'm infinitely curious.

'A new kid,' I thought to myself as I ran up the staircase to retrieve my book. I wanted to look cool walking absently down the staircase, you know, just happening to be there when the new kid walked in with whatever little baggage he had.

I loved new kids, though I never said so, because their stories were all so different. It's a small world, but so many different people with different tragedies live in it. It always intrigued me, emotions; perspectives. This was also a big reason why the others liked me, I actually listened to the things they said, the stories they told; not out of obligation, (because I'd never do anything I didn't want to) but out of genuine interest. So, a new kid really put another bright chapter in my day.

The sun shone brightly through the window in such a way that you could see the rays. Some of those rays hit the chandelier and a rainbow stretched itself across the floor, enticing the smaller kids. They laughed and stood in the rainbow as I walked down the stairs, peering out the foyer's window at the top of the doors. I could see the whole thing, except for the kid. What I did see was a small thing come out of the trunk of the car. Finding my eyesight a pain in the ass, I can barely see anything. I realize it's pointless and I'm going to have to anxiously wait for the newest addition. It takes far too long, and I feel some sort of eerie anticipation for this one, as if I knew it were him. Hearing the commotion just outside the door, I stood in place, waiting for my cue. The butterflies weren't just in my stomach; they were fluttering in my fingers, my neck, and anywhere else in my body that their papery little wings would take them. The person at the other end fumbled with the key, and I think I was getting more frustrated than him.

'_Just pull the damn handle and let me call dibs on the new kid!_' I thought angrily, standing in the middle of the stairs. Finally, the incompetent man pulled the handle, letting the air rush through the foyer and scaring away the cheery kids that were playing in the rainbow.

There was a lot of chattering just outside and it's about a minute before someone actually walked in the door. It was a foreign guy in a suit and I immediately froze in distrust. My toes curled in my boots and I tried to keep from taking action to get him out of our house. I calmed a little as soon as Roger followed him, but I didn't take my eyes away from the weird guy until the boy walked in.

Pale as the moon and small, he walked in, gripping a transformer to his side. I couldn't help it. He was so strange, yet beautiful. He rubbed his eye, tired. The boy had the tendency to look so fragile and cute, even if he hadn't been. The lighting enhanced every milky feature, making him glow softly like an angel. Everything about him, from the lustrous white hair that curled around his ears, to his ironed-out pajamas, to the white socks on his feet, he was perfect. And I was captivated.

I forgot all about my planned walking up until then, when I realized I was staring at him. The white boy looked up at me for what he had anticipated to be a split second, and our eyes met. We held this gaze for what seemed like hours. His vacant gray eyes and my animated blue ones. His mouth opened slightly and I half-smiled at him, something I only do when I'm messing with Matt. He looked down, and not a moment too soon, as the men called him along. Turning on his heel, the boy lifted his gaze to mine once more and I looked at him expectantly.

'So? Are you going to go or what?'

He dashed over the cold marble floor to the hardwood hallway I made the trek to every week. I got in trouble about every week for doing something stupid but funny, like saying bad words or putting something in the teachers' chairs. One time, I replaced the black and brown whiteboard erasers with brownies. That one got me a freaking week of cleaning the common room bathroom, which is used like 210 times a day. Greatest part is, they still ate those brownies.

These moments of hilarity were often followed by a meeting with Roger, the iron fist. He would comment about how dumb my joke was, what my punishment was, and sometimes, if it was something really unbelievable, like that time I replaced the toilet water with coffee as payback, he'd ask me what the hell was I thinking and how the hell did I do it. Roger, despite being a hard-ass and hating kids, is kind of all right with me. Sometimes.

The boy disappeared into Roger's office and I closed my eyes and sighed. He was so strange looking. He was so doll-like. And those eyes… How did he have such an effect on me, the colorless, emotionless boy that first day? I didn't even know his name and he already initiated this intensity, this passionate flow of emotions that I would forever associate with him. I don't have a name for this emotion, but I'm aware of it and how it made me want to scream profanity, beat anything, walk until the sun set. Take him and hold him close to me. I wanted him to be my property, no romantic connotation, and no reservations. I was getting more and more curious to who he was and what name he'd make for himself. What was his story? I was positive his would be the best yet.

I was so lost in these thoughts that when I did remember to walk down the stairwell, I lost my balance and slid down a flight of stairs on my back.

"Dammit!" I cursed, rubbing my back and my head. It was his fault of course. I fell because of how my thoughts were swimming around him. Getting up, I sulkily leaned against the banister. I became angry with the boy I didn't know, pushing the idea of him away. I was almost successful in forgetting about him when he came cluelessly wandering out from Roger's office, carrying that Optimus Prime like _it_ was the fragile one, the one that needed protecting. I chuckled at the thought, and once again, found myself staring at him. Embarrassed, I twisted my head towards the window again, but somehow, my eyes kept drifting back. Maybe he was so attention grabbing because he was so blank.

He seemed to have forgotten his bag, and he padded over to the little black suitcase. His eyes drooped sleepily, and he yawned, groggily pulling the handle from the nice suitcase. He looked at his slip of paper, the one with the room number on it, and surveyed the room. Somewhere in that search, he found me, and once again, it was me and Snowflake here in a staring contest. Not wanting to seem stalker-ish or something, I divert my attention to the open door, where the rays of sunshine fell. I was doing a pretty good job of looking aloof when he actually left his luggage and started walking towards me. I slid my eyes over to him once he was close enough, but he didn't stop walking. Soon he was not even a foot away from me. He smelled like fresh linen and cane sugar and honey. My heart started pounding profusely, and I started to lose my cool. I knew it. I'd decided. Right then was where we would have the final battle in my decision process. I was going to turn this intense feeling into something more, whether it be Hate, Love, Lust or anything…

We locked eyes and he smiled adorably in almost milliseconds.

Guess my emotions would have to wait.

"May I help you?" I said condescendingly, pulling a chocolate bar from my pocket.

"I was wondering where my room was located. I can only suppose you are more familiar with this building than I am…" He then tilted his head at me, puzzled.

It probably was the look on my face. I was stunned. What the hell! His English was so proper, it sounded like he actually used capitalization while he talked! His voice was soft and raspy, and he had a twisted sort of British-American accent. I didn't want to reply in that same dictionary perfect English because he'd know it was falsified. So, hoping he knew the language, I decided to respond in French.

"Oui, je connais cet immeuble bien. Si tu veux apprendre, tu me peux suivre."

I held out my hand, inviting the boy up the stairs. Wide-eyed, he looked at me, down at my hand and back up at me. He lowered his eyes and hesitantly, but gently slipped his hand into mine.

It was loose and soft, yet trembling. I could tell he didn't trust me. I could tell that he didn't hold hands often. He seemed reserved and this, this holding hands thing, was a sign that he was ready to trust me, even in so little time. He must have noticed me like I noticed him.

"O.K." He whispered.

I can't say I was surprised he knew French.

"Alors, comment tu t'appelles?" I inquired, careful not to grip his hand for fear he'd let go.

He had to think for a moment to answer this one. I smiled, remembering the hard time I had with the name and wondered what his real name was.

I knew it was forbidden, but I wanted him to tell me his.

He brought his hand to a hover over mine and whispered, eyes low and dreamlike, "Near."

Near. Near. Near…

"Nice to meet you, Near," I said.

Very nice indeed.

"My name's Mello, and welcome to the orphanage."

!

_à suivre_

Yo, author's notes again.

I was pleasantly surprised at the number of reviews on this story even though it was just the first chapter!

You guys are spoiling me. I prefer it to continue. :D

Anyhow, I was excited to incorporate the French dialogue into the chapter and more excited to get time to work on it. Look at me, the little advice taker, BTW! Thank you, TiteCla~

Eh eh eh, I told you, here it comes! The Mello/Near~!

I originally tried to write this chapter from Near's POV, but I kinda suck when it's coming from Near. I am more like the Keehler than the Snowflake, but I really want to attempt the double POV. So…watch for it.

That's all. And remember,

Should I give up? Or will you right me a review so I don't have to?

Should I write more? Or should I just keep chasing pavements?

It's your decision.

See ya soon!

_~ Sam_


	4. The Tour: The Dormitory

"_Tu m'énerves, mais je ne te vais pas dire au revoir. __Tu me lis et déchirer comme les pages d'un livre__! __Est-ce-que je suis aller souffrir pour tous les temps pour toi? Par toi?"_

**Forevermore – **Chapter Trois/_Three_

Mello3

I had subconsciously become Near's escort, being manipulated by that boy for the very first time, but it sure as hell wasn't the last.

I tell ya, story of my life.

Anyway, I looked at Near's slip of paper and skimmed over the room number; A - 21.

"Mmm." I pondered out loud, scanning the floor plan of the building. "Well, A means it's in the first hallway and the two means it's on the second floor. The one is special…" I mumbled the last part, "And… it's right by my room."

I noticed him looking at me, forever phlegmatic. I stared back at him, a look of humor and disapproval on my face. "What're you looking at?" I inquired, hoping that annoyance traveled in my voice. His eyes dropped fast, like I hurt his feelings. Hurt… his feelings?

My heart crashed into the floor with his gaze, and I felt the effects instantaneously. I hadn't even thought about his feelings, that he had feelings and I realized that I'd lose my mind if he cried. I had to prevent that deadly result at all costs.

"What's wrong with you, dammit?" I snapped in reality, but I pleaded subliminally. I didn't have mind-control or telepathy or whatever that ability is called where you can talk to people through thoughts or whatever, but I hoped the boy got my real message anyway.

There was a painful silence as Near's eyes shifted around the floor, seemingly tracing the smooth grotto in between the tiles with them. I glared and glared at him until he peered up at me, blank once again.

"…Mello is under no obligation to assist me…" He said softly. "I… didn't mean to make you angry… I can… do it on my own… if-if that suits you…" I didn't even have time to think about my actions when I held up my hand and stopped him short.

Without hesitation, I grabbed his dainty hands, forcing him to pay attention. He stared up at me with those big onyx eyes, shocked at being touched.

"Near. I am the one that initiated this interaction. I don't do anything I don't want to do, got that? Talking to you was no accident and helping you is no accident either. So quit it with the attitude, or we're gonna have some real problems."

I then, never lifting my critical gaze, released his hands. I couldn't stop looking into his eyes, and I ended up having to drag my eyes away from his like an executioner a body bag.

'So what's your power over me, huh?' I thought, scowling. I ascended the stairs, wordlessly, and didn't look down until I reached the top. I could only assume the albino boy was behind me. Where else would he be?

As if on cue, I felt a gentle, reserved tug on my sleeve that could have only been introduced by an introvert with zero impudence and soft, small hands. Grinning wildly for reasons I didn't quite know, I turned around to see him; head ducked slightly, three fingers grasping my sleeve. Good god.

The sadistic grin quickly melted off my face and was replaced by an all too natural friendly smile. I tilted his head up with my spare hand. Making obviously uncalled for contact a second time, he became stiff, but ceased to show any emotion. He wasn't used to being touched at all and froze at the graze of my fingers, no matter how gentle. I removed my hand and looked at that face that so pompously demanded an explanation.

"You won't be able to see your room when you're head's hanging off your neck that way." I retorted.

Near's expression then softened and he looked away from my glaciate eyes whispering, "I… didn't oppose your touch, Mello."

I folded my arms and raised my eyebrows, but I wasn't fooling anybody. A pleased smile crept onto my face, and I nodded slightly.

"Yes, but Near, you aren't seeing much of the building on this particular tour, are you?" I posed, waiting for him to follow me.

"Well then, what do you have to show me?" Near threw back and I smirked once more.

"All right, new kid, welcome to Wammy's."

I gestured to the space underneath the balconied hallway we stood in.

"That is the foyer, with the big chandelier. It only leads three ways,"

I explained and pointed down towards each hallway.

"Roger's Office, The Common Room and upstairs to the Dorms."

I lead him forward on the red carpet floors, the golden placards on the ebony walls indicating the way.

"Those placards just show room numbers. They're almost useless."

I walked him through to the heart of the dormitory; a dome-shaped room with unrealistically enormous windows on the ceiling, a sleek hardwood floor, a mini-library consisting of nine six tiered bookshelves, a computer station, a countertop with a coffee maker on top of it, two huge pantries filled with school supplies, a miniature fridge filled with some random goodies, including my chocolate, and a few tables. A huge, crystalline chandelier far more beautiful than the one in the foyer hung in this enormous room and maps donned the dark brown walls like a museum. Light filtered through the gigantic windows and I watched as this placid, unemotional boy let his eyes grow a little wider and his mouth form a small o. I could tell that this was an extreme display of emotion for the albino and I smiled at him, nostalgic. Near took in every aspect of the room. He pointed at an open window on the roof and said, "Look, Mello, it's such a big window and it's so high up, but it _opens_."

Tugging on my sleeve, he pointed here and there, saying obvious things out of bewilderment, and I chuckled, because this appalled demeanor was so out-of-character for the boy I met just moments ago. He tried to walk around a bit, but the floor was so smooth, his socks made him about as balanced as a beginner on skates. He inevitably slipped to the floor landing, as you could have guessed, right on his butt. On the floor, one sock clearly coming off of his petite foot, Near then summarized with a monotonous, "It's very nice."

I tried so hard not to laugh at him, I really did. I held it back with everything I had. And I mostly succeeded, had my expressions not looked, as Near later so gracefully put it, like I was constipated.

Near looked at me, ever emotionless, and asked if I was okay or I needed help and if I would be able to complete this task; this tour, but it only made me want to laugh even more, the way he thought I was in trouble.

I finally caught my breath and wiped my eyes when Near said, "Is your…er, spasm… quite finished?"

I held my forehead in my hand, head hanging, embarrassment creeping through my body.

"Yeah. I'm done." I sputtered.

He nodded in comprehension and slipped his hand in mine.

This time, I was the one who was shocked. I looked at him, eyes dilated and questioning.

His manner never wavered as he answered in complete sincerity, "I feel that I am able to trust you enough to hold my hand… this aids me in ably directing myself around the building, rather than following you. However, if this is discomforting…"

He lifted his hand from mine and started to twirl his hair in his graceful fingers. I couldn't do much but stare. I was positive this boy would have trouble opening up at all, but about an hour in I have permission to hold his hand.

"Do you go this fast with everyone?" I ask, seeing this akin to kissing on the first date. He shakes his head, and I am pretty positive this means I can be assured I am the only one he will allow this sort of contact with. I question him no further and entwine our hands like he wanted. He blushes visibly, an understated pink wind dusting his cheeks. I smile. Even his blush is shy.

…

How am I so entranced by this boy?

Quickly erasing my other thoughts, I focus back on the tour. I point out the three large hallways that branch from the heart. "That," I said pointing to the Northeast hallway, "Is the girls dorms." I gestured to the large purple placard on the wall adjacent to the large open arc of an entrance. "We aren't allowed in there past 6, but most of us don't really go in at all. Just the more… frivolous." He nodded in understanding, and I was practically ecstatic that I didn't have to go any further. This also made me wonder just how corrupt he really was, if I thought I was under the obligation to explain such a thing to his innocent mind. Of course, it could be expected of a genius to know about… intimate relations.

I glanced over at Near and couldn't help wondering, if anyone, who he'd like to have that sort of relationship with. Who he'd fantasize about, making faces, touching himself, even…

This intense pressure settled over me and a foreign feeling spread at the bottom of my stomach. I'd never felt this way before, but I knew just how to take care of it. My heart was throbbing and I must have looked like I was having another problem again, because Near looked back at me and squeezed my hand.

'That's not the only thing I want you to squeeze…' I thought, provocatively. I licked my lips, eyeing him like a bar of chocolate. I was just about to salivate, wondering what it would be like to taste a bar of Near-flavored chocolate, when I realized my hormones were taking over me.

'I really need to control myself. I don't want this feeling about Near, especially since I don't even know him that well…Besides, he'd never agree to such an… interaction…' I calmed down, logical again. But I felt this feeling in my stomach long afterwards and I was certain that it wasn't going to be a one-time issue. At eight years old, I was already attracted to Near. Actually, no. No, I wasn't. _Not really._

At any rate, after I got over myself, I pointed across the hall at the next large open archway.

"That, my Near, is the boys dormitory, where you will be staying for the rest of your life here." I waved to the hall represented by a crimson placard.

"And that," I gestured toward the door we entered through, "is the arc to the main entrance, as you could have guessed."

He smiled somewhat degradingly, as if to say, 'Yeah, I know that stupid.' Trying to avoid further self-inflicted humiliation, I quickly switched gears and started marching towards the crimson dorm. Our hands separated as he walked vigorously to keep up with my stride, suitcase rolling behind him, feet silent like a light summer's breeze.

When we tread farther into the arc, the carpet turned red, as you would have expected, and the hallway started to branch out, becoming a wider space with various paths.

"Okay, so this is the division. It was A – 21 right?" I asked, studying the golden lettered signs above each individual hallway.

"Yes, I believe so," He replied, bag handle in one hand, a lock of hair in the index finger of the other.

Continuing with my attempt to remember which hallways branch off to certain places, I stumbled upon something I had completely forgotten to tell him.

"Near, there's something else you need to know about letter categories," I said, obviously deep in thought and speaking absentmindedly. I knew he was listening, so I continued, "They go up to F, as you could guess. It demonstrates a correspondence…"

"…To grades and personalities." He picked up my sentence to show he was on the same wavelength.

I briefly glanced at him before returning to the placards. "Yes, that's it. The fact that you are an A, an A – 1, no less…"

He interrupted me, "But Mello, my room number is 21. I am slightly confused."

Why did he ask such a question when I was obviously getting to it? He was going to _slightly _piss me off.

"Near, a one, a one at all in your room number, is a privilege. The room numbers with a one on them are all in the same hallway. I remember now. " I reminisced. "My room number is eleven. The number one room…" I let it fall silent. No one spoke of room number one. Ever. I was hoping the omniscience would help Near comprehend the emotional gravity of bringing up such a topic, but I suppose I should have guessed that Near wouldn't understand emotion.

"Mello…" He piqued, with that soft, raspy voice of his. I slid my eyes toward him, hoping the combination of pleading and distraught expression would somehow reach that thickheaded boy, but he either was oblivious or didn't care. Near's emotionless yet powerful, dark eyes settled on mine and he found his chance. I was vulnerable. He fingered my necklace, seemingly carelessly and flirtatious, when suddenly, he grabbed the crucifix and pulled my face close to his.

"Damn." I mused, mildly impressed. A semi-serious smirk crawled onto my face – amused, but scared.

Near wasn't into playing games with me. He made no hesitation to get closer. He breathed on me, and my heart started throbbing painfully again. I closed my eyes and I could only hear, as Near whispered innocently into my ear, crucifix in hand, "What happened in Room One, Mello?"

_Room One…_

_

* * *

_

_ à suivre..._

_

* * *

_

_Ciao, it's the author again. Near and the power of manipulation. He isn't one for failing!_

_I'm starting to wonder if I will ever get them to Near's room… Eh, it hasn't been that long. But it's pretty crucial to get them there soon or I'll never move on to the more romantic/erotic part of the story. Don't worry, it's rated M for a reason. _

_Sorry about my poor descriptive skills, but I hope you pictured the upstairs the way I did._

_There wasn't much to say on this one except I stayed up late for like three days to work on it. Up crazy hours like 2:45 and 4:50. _

_So please, if you wanna hate __**and/or **__appreciate, please do it by reviewing!_

_Well, I ain't sayin' I'm a review digger_

_But if you don't review I'm gonna pull a trigger_

_So, I ain't saying I'm a review digger_

_But I won't pause to bust a cap_

_In that ass_

_That ass_

_Review girls, go 'head review~_

_Review guys, go 'head review~_

_Sincurly yours, the Santa Stalker, _

_~Sam_


	5. The Tour: Room One

_Je te d__é__teste._

**Forevermore – **Chapitre Quatre/_Four_

Who else?

_Room One._

Damn.

Story of my life; story of my life!

"Every Wammy kid hears about it sooner or later," I sighed, and smacked his hands away from my crucifix. However, I remained close to his face to whisper my delivering statement,

"An eye for an eye, and contact for contact."

I backed away and gesture to a nearby chair leaning against those unchanging walls. He sat, as expected, and I unenthusiastically leaned against the perpendicular wall. He looked at me in a place where I could not conflict his stare with my own, but I was pretending to be distinctly uninterested.

In reality, I was freaking the fuck out.

I never was asked about Room One. The conforming, sensible descendants of our generation understood the indicated dismal emotion associated with Room One and did not ask about it, curious or not. They could sense that it was forbidden and telling them was unnecessary.

I hated this story. I never thought I'd have to tell it.

And telling it to _him_ was 7 times worse.

"Room One. Where do you start?" I thought out loud, grimacing and throwing my head back against the wall. I pulled a half-eaten chocolate bar out of my pants pocket, and even though it wasn't hard and cold like I liked it, it was still better than nothing.

I let Near stare at me while I narrated the story in my head. The chocolate melted in my mouth, and I took an extra long time swallowing, not only to stall but also just to see if he would be annoyed. Anyhow, he raised his eyebrows at me when it was apparent I was taking a particularly long time.

I shrugged and finished, licking my lips.

"Alright. So you want to know about Room One? You asked for it."

Like a prostitute asks for rape.

"I… wasn't the first one to be put in line to succeed L. There were two others before me, and they lived," I stood up and looked him straight in the eye, "In that room."

I diverted my attention from him and slid over to a large archway that seemed to house a never-ending hallway. Solely solar-powered, the hall was darkening as evening fell, giving it an ominous milieu. The setting was perfect. I sauntered down this passage as I continued the story, Near trailing behind me so inconspicuously it seemed suspicious; like we were sharing a secret endeavor.

"Legend has it that A, who's real name no one is aware of anymore, and Beyond Birthday were best friends and shared Room One. What B lacked, A excelled at, and vice-versa. They were said to be some of the most intelligent kids in the world. I wouldn't go as far as to call them Yin and Yang, but they certainly were a power duo. It was more like… Batman and Robin."

I looked back at Near, who was behind me, listening attentively.

"Wammy's, as I'm sure you don't know, isn't all immaculate appearance, warm clothes and plentiful meals. Those things merely scratch the surface. There is always a price to pay for the good things you are given. And the high competition, the succession, the performance, the expectations, the pressure… is our price."

I approached a large window and collapsed onto the windowsill, sighing. I stretched out my legs, taking up most of the ledge. I pulled my chocolate bar back out. Even though it was somewhat squishy and melted now, I still bit fervently from it.

Near sat opposite me, on the other side of the windowsill. I noticed that he pulled one leg up and left the other hanging off, twirling his snowy hair, alternating fingers. Night was falling now, the moon beaming through the window. I gazed at the moon for a while, white as Near was.

"Infinite stress is only the beginning. You have to be dead serious about this, and it's very tolling. Not many leave Wammy's undamaged, and it isn't rare to leave here in a coffin."

Near registered a bit of unrest at this, cut his eyes at me, mouth open slightly. "But it's all self-induced. There have only been two incidents of murder in Wammy history." Near visibly, if you looked hard enough, relaxed. I leaned against the cool glass, my breath materializing on the windowpane.

"The pressure, the competition between best friends and roommates… They weren't equipped to handle it. They were the wrong kind of successors. The wrong kind of people. A committed suicide; died weak and impaired." I sneered. People like A disgusted me. Only the incompetent took the easy way out. Near must feel the same way because he replied, "That's a shame." His tone sarcastic and eyes dismissive, I smiled and nodded back, sharing an opinion well-supported among the Wammy children. We detested those who killed themselves instead of dealing with their problems, because we all had our fair share of issues. And we weren't rich.

But I digress…

"BB was driven to insanity, and went as far as to become indistinguishable from L. He then ran away and became the infamous mass-murderer of the Los Angeles BB Murder Case.

He forever wished to surpass L, trying to impose a case on him that he would never be able to solve. Unfortunately, and in all seriousness quite obviously, L did complete this case and BB now resides in jail."

I ripped another delicious chunk out of my chocolate bar, not hesitating to finish quickly.

"Room One was the room that A killed himself in. BB performed his first murder in Room One, a corpse of a boy that was inferred to have bullied him. The only thing he left at the scene besides a bloodless body, knife clearly sawed into the chest, was a jar of strawberry jam, half finished. To this day, no one is quite sure of the significance of the jelly."

My eyes became heavy as I licked at my chocolate, taking an extra long blink.

"They picked up the bodies, but no one is allowed in Room One. Ever. Some kids stirred up a rumor that the bedroom is haunted, but I refuse to believe so. I don't know…"

I trailed off, rising and gesturing Near along. He shuffled along behind me again, but this time he held the fabric of my shirt in order to keep up.

When we neared the end of the hallway, no ways left to turn but left, I halted abruptly. Near ended up smashing into my back and made a cute sound. "Mello… " He whined softly, but I refused to respond. Cryptically, I indicated to the space in front of us.

There, just as red as the other doors, showing no signs of desertion or neglect stood the cursed entrance of Room One. It almost smirked at us, beckoning us inside its walls. He looked at me with those big, undemonstrative eyes, and I shook my head only once.

He nodded; twirling that lock of hair again, and we set off once more, a dense air of tension between us. I would never let him set foot in that room. I couldn't chance that it really was haunted.

…I'm thinking, about the present…

We aren't like A and B are we?

One gentle, troubled and suicidal… and one insane, malevolent and obsessed?

…

…

That's… impossible…

* * *

À suivre…

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Sorry this chapter is short, but I'm shipping out tomorrow. I'll be gone for about a week, so don't expect a chapter for a while!_

_Also, I've noticed the copious absence of humor in the last chapters, but it'll return soon. There isn't much to laugh about here~_

_I was thinking about making a Christmas fic too, but I don't think that'll be happening, so Feliz Navida, Joyeux Noel, Buon Natale – Merry Christmas~!_

_Listen to some Mariah Carey Christmas carols!_

_Watch some cheesy Christmas specials!_

_Open some presents!_

_Drink some eggnog!_

_You get the gist. Merry Christmas, y'all._

_Well, you know the drill…_

_I don't want a lot for Christmas_

_There is just one thing I need_

_I don't care about the nature_

_Just have some generosity _

_I just want your feedback_

_More than a new Cadillac_

_(Not really)_

_Guess what I want from you?_

_All I want for Christmas is…_

_A review_

_Or two~_

_Danananana!_

_~Sam_


	6. DINNNEEEEERRRRRRR!

_Mais, je ne peux pas pense de gens __autres_. Tu seulement... tout seule... tu nage dans mon t_ête__... _

**Forevermore** – Chapitre Cinq_/Five_

Cinco de Mello

When we made it to Near's room, I had initially planned on leaving him there to get aquainted with it and meeting him later when the dinner bell rang.

However, I wouldn't have looked very cool doing that now would I have?

Another thing about the story of my life; I tend to try to look all condescending and/or aloof and end up looking like an idiot in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"And this is where we part ways," I dismissed, and pivoted, tossing the chocolate wrapper on the ground behind me like I didn't give a fuck. I daresay it would have been a great departure if _someone_ hadn't showed up.

"Melloooo! Guess what I got?" A familiar voice sang from behind me. I stopped in my tracks and turned my head slightly. Near was facing the other way when his head turned slightly and his eyes met mine briefly. I obstructed my gaze from him and settled it on another advancing silhouette. I rolled my eyes at the familiar, still a yard away, copper-haired figure, and sneered, "Matt. You're really loud, know that?"

He laughed and I shook my head; advancing and eventually standing next to Near, who was still looking up at me, puzzled and expectant, like a flower was going to sprout from my head. I have to say; it was starting to creep my out, his expressionless stare. But I didn't let him bother me, as Matt approached me and we linked hands; bumped our shoulders against each other and I transferred myself to Matt's side. "Matt, this is a snowflake, Snowflake, this is my best friend and roommate, Super Nerd." I smirked at my incredulously clever nicknames, which I realize now are only funny to an eight year old boy. Matt laughed nervously, obviously embarrassed, and extended his hand. Near speculated it for a minute, and when he met it he looked at me instead of Matt, a little flustered and all uncomfortable. He was cute. I laughed and tapped Near on the back, in which gesture he relaxed.

"I take it back, Near, you're not a snowflake. Entirely. But Matt," I turned my gaze to him and smiled cynically, "you are most definitely a super nerd." He looked at me unhappily like a small dog.

"How come I'm the super nerd? You're the one who's number one! I'm number three!" He argued, letting go of Near's hand to point at me. Near tilted his head at his hand, deciding whether or not to let it drift to his mouth or hair like he was so used to doing. I had to decide to stop staring at Near to resume my argument with my nerdy little friend, "Matt, you're incredibly anti-social, not to mention the only thing you think or talk about is a pop-star you think is cute or the video game that you're playing."

"Hey, Brennda is super-cute, I'm sorry if that makes me a geek, which I fail to see how it could possibly do so." He retorted, becoming more fervent. I smirked, replying, "Oh it wouldn't be if she wasn't so fucking nerdy herself. The reason she's attractive to you is because she talks about Star Trek and Transformers, is a character voice and sings on 'Kingdom Reign: Evolution'and is the voice to that weird ass anime you watch at, what? 3 o' clock in the morning?"

"You played 'Kingdom Reign: Evolution' with me!" He accused.

"I don't have a crush on Ms. Mari Ellen, now do I?" I teased.

Matt stood there, flustered, and I laughed. With Matt, it was always just a game. I never risked anything when I teased him this way, because Matt was faithful and loyal to me like a dog. I was his only good friend, and he was my favorite out of everyone. I was never this way with anyone else, and I'd never trade my friendship with Matt for one with any other freaky little nerd, not even Near. We were both hysterical, a somewhat confused and unresponsive Near staring at us. I regained my composure, and hit Matt on the head as the dinner bell rang through the empty halls. The vibrating floor caused Near to look up, fearful. I studied him, puzzled yet concentrated. Why was he so scared? This was the most open display of emotions I'd seen from him all night, and it was just a little shake of the house. "DINNNEEEEERRRRRRR!" Matt bellowed, charging down the hallway almost savagely. I smirked and shook my head, but I remained conscious of Near's discomfort. He was actually shaking, as I crept up behind him. "Near," I whispered, softening my expression. "You're going to have to get used to that. It isn't going to let up anytime soon." I could nearly hear his heart beat, wondering if he would let me, and I extended my hand. "Let's go. It's dinner time." He took my hand, expressionless once more, but I could still feel his slight trembles travel through his soft little hands.

I proceeded to drag him down the stairs and through the common room, to the pretentiously gigantic dining room. Nearly a hundred little faces crowded around the extensively long dining room table, most of them talking to one another, a select few looking at us, and a couple, like Matt, doing something else like reading a book, or as in Super Nerd's case, playing the new Kingdom Reign, which was what he had actually come to talk to me about before when we started to argue. I led Near to the seat across from me, which the kid next to him enviously eye-balled him for. He was angry about being demoted, I guess. Near noticed this and scooted away from him, unnoticeably.

"This one is Kingdom Reign: Lost Dawn," He murmured to me as I slid into my seat next to him. "This one have Brennda in it?"

He glared at me, and spat, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Just wanted to know if we'd have to rename it Kingdom Reign: Brenndawn."

"Shut up, Mello,"

"Oh, wait, how about Kingdom Reign: Loser's Dawn?"

"Shut _up."_

"I'm kinda feeling Kingdom Reign: Finding Love; and the plot can be that you and Brennda are playing Dungeons and Dragons in an airship, but your dice fly out the window and she decides to heroically jump out the window to save them, but you start to crash, and so thinking you'll never see each other again, you start making out!" I heard him grit his teeth, looking up, but averting me. Unfazed, I continued my story, rambling beyond safe measures. "And the two of you land on the Autobot planet and have to battle fierce Decepticons, before you finally end up injured and she nurses you back to health, and then you romantically kiss in the rain! And then you climb back into your space ship, returning to Earth as heroes and get married!"

"That would be the worst fucking game on the planet." He jeered.

"No reason to curse Matt. Just because you're missing my obvious genius game ideas…" I didn't get anything else out, for a fist flew in my direction. The jarring clank of the Gameboy Color's plastic form on the marble floor was warning enough. Matt never had good aim, or an accurate estimate of my agility. I ended up ducking and laughing as he tried and failed to kick my ass. I heard a collective gasp; followed by instant silence. I held his incoming fist, becoming serious as I directed my gaze to the end of the table. He turned his head to the other distant end of the table following my lead and he dropped his fist abruptly, and looked back at me, mouth agape. My expression was stalwart as I slid my eyes over to Near, who was forever undemonstrative. He met my gaze though, and raised an eyebrow. I smiled at him, and redirected my gaze to the man at the end of the table. I felt somewhat childishly superior to Near with the knowledge of why Roger was present at the end of the table. Usually, it was just us kids and a few staff members to insure we weren't killing each other or attempting to kill ourselves. In the beginning, they tried to restrain Matt and I when we started to roughhouse, but they caught on quickly that we were just two boys having fun with each other, not two rivals taking desperate and pathetic measures in attempt to surpass each other. I was trained in the art of charisma, and avoiding attack; so any attempt to assassinate your number one was extremely futile and always, ALWAYS ended up with you in the hospital ward for broken ribs, a broken spirit or broken nuts, depending on how merciful I felt that day. These attempts were very minimal though, because of the general liking, fear, and ultimate respect of me and the boys who often hung around me, most notably Matt. As I said before, Wammy's was under _my_ rule then, and I loved it. Life was so much simpler then.

Anyhow, Roger had made his way over to this side of the table, ready to make his vital announcement. He cleared his throat, and we held our breath. The tension in the dining room was thick like a smokescreen, a few girls starting to hyperventilate. I also disliked kids who made big shows of themselves. My followers succeeded in shutting them up, calming me –and Near, I had noticed- sufficiently. Roger straightened the papers in his hand and began his speech, secure and articulate as usual, "Today we were graced with the blessing of another difficult successor to L. Please welcome Near, your newest competition." 'A.K.A. superior,' I thought, slightly bitter, but increasingly bemused, as Near bowed and said a confident, clear, "Hello."

I redirected my gaze to the crowd of children, most indifferent. A select few smirked at him like he was fresh meat; another easy target. I subconsciously slit my eyes threateningly. No. That wasn't happening. I guess I had already decided that Near was mine, my newest pet, and I wasn't about to let some wannabe Mello kick his ass. Only I had the right to do so, if I was going to at all. He was my prey. Mine. Which brought me to the next unsettling group, a couple of annoying, giggly, creepy girls, who eyed Near like a teddy-bear… or even worse… a piece of eye-candy. I saw at least one of these little freaks fondle him with her eyes! I tried not to double over in disgust, as I looked at the group disapprovingly and unsubtly repulsed. I would come to know one of these annoying eye-rapers as Linda, Near's number one fan. And the last group of kids, looked at him with a new kind of ice. These few kids, including a boy who constantly tried to gain my approval, glared at him with hate, morose with the aspect of having another superior. It was these few, Number Two, and Numbers Four and Five, I was the most afraid of. I didn't want them to get their hands on him… they'd certainly torture him to no end; trying to break his complacency, make him beg for mercy, try to get him to surrender and lose, and probably drive him to harm or kill himself…

"In more important news," Roger declared, pulling me back from those nightmarish thoughts, "L is concerned on the aspect on having more than one successor again, separating their rooms as the most notable one. But in a new arrangement, he has decided to conference with the two, one I just introduced to you as Near, and this juvenile delinquent that you all know as Mello," Roger said gesturing to me, as serious as he was about L coming over. But I couldn't ponder the obvious jab he was taking at my ego, not with the gravity of a conference with L looming over my head. Near and I… and L… This conference would decide our fates at Wammy's, maybe even our fate as L's successors… I was acutely nervous in anticipation of this date. No, that doesn't communicate the extremity of my anxiety waiting for this conference. My stomach was twisting in knots as I looked over nervously at Near, who remained apathetic. I sighed, in realization that was going to have to discuss this with him later. Alone.

I felt something drop on my lap, and I peered over at Matt, his goggles recently donned, smiling at me, a lollipop stick poking out of his mouth. A Ghirardelli dark chocolate bar rested on my leg, beckoning me with its red 60% cacao label, along with mix tape. There was no label, but knowing Matt, he was saving it for a special occasion in which I was stressed out. Well, his timing was perfect, and despite being a geek beyond boundaries, his taste in music was surprisingly similar to my own, meaning that, of course, it was fantastic. I slid it into my pocket and extended my fist underneath the table, which he clinked to his own fast. We were both smiling with the understanding of a friendship that not many others could claim having. Matt really was my brother in this hellhole, someone I could trust to have my back and support me, no matter who left or what crazy shit I did, wanted, or wanted to do.

And as I bit into my chocolate, savoring it and looking at the crystalline chandelier hanging in this room, I knew that whatever I decided to do with Near and with Matt, there he'd be, to fix whatever mess I decided to make.

Near was looking at me when I came back down, trying to look aloof and stoic, but his eyes were flecked with this strange mixture of envy and sadness. Was he jealous of my relationship with Matt? For himself or for the both of us, I wondered.

Near was so…incomprehensive. No one could analyze him, catch him, figure out the grand Near mystery, but I was determined to do so. It was no longer debatable; Near was mine now. As I stared straight into those sultry gray eyes, I carried my frazzled nerves with my gaze. He blinked only once, and while still quite obviously envious, he smiled reassuringly. I did the same, hoping he'd understand that Matt and I… Near and I would never be like Matt and I. These relationships were entirely different from each other, and while not equal, each was important to me.

Near and I never had to communicate with words. Our eyes were mouths enough, I came to find, and we had a connection unlike any other I had with people. I surmised that this was because Near had this sort of personality firewall up, and his goal was to never show someone he didn't trust any small bit of his true emotions or personality. So what most people couldn't pick up in Near's small actions and mannerisms, I could instantly.

I had nearly finished my chocolate bar when the food came and I realized Roger was gone. I wondered what the rest of the things he said was briefly before they set the potatoes in front of me. 'Screw Roger,' I thought hungrily, and I looked over at Near again, who was bewildered at the amount of food on the table. "Is it… is it Thanksgiving and I… have the dates confused?" He stammered, as a small bowl of gravy was slid my way. I snickered, passing the bowl over to the boy next to Near, who had his hand extended and his expression condescending towards a Near who was way more concerned with the amount of food being exchanged. I grabbed a fried chicken leg and extended it to Near, though I was almost positive he was more of a salad kind of guy. "Near, there are like a hundred kids at this table. It's kind of a Wammy thing. Don't stress it; just eat. You need to gain some weight anyways," I advised, indicating his way oversized pajamas with the chicken leg. He delicately accepted the chicken, inspecting it. Guess he wasn't used to KFC either. He then bit into it, a look of genuine surprise on his face.

"This gives people heart attacks, doesn't it?" He speculated.

"But it tastes good, doesn't it?" I prodded.

He looked up at me, a fake look of annoyance on his face, replacing his embarrassment. "…More or less," He finished, sinking his teeth into the chicken again as I smiled triumphantly. I grabbed an orange, and managed to scrounge a roll, the most popular item on the table. I was also tossed some pasta, which was unfitting to this meal, but I piled it on anyway. I realized the overwhelming amount of starch on my plate and opted for peas over cornbread, finally ready to eat. I had finished peeling my orange when Near reached over and stole it right out of my hands.

"What the fuck!" I cursed, kicking him under the table and trying to reclaim my orange. He just smirked at me, and tore a petal from the bloom of the flower-like orange. He proceeded to devour each torturously in front of me, taunting me, until the orange was gone like everything else on my platter. The dismissal bell rang and Near sucked the juice off of his fingers, stating with a highly demeaning, and suggestive tone, "Thank you for the orange, Mello," His eyes flicked away from me and his words became sincere, "and for escorting me through the premises. I believe I owe you a great advocacy." He then proceeded towards me until we were close enough to make Near uncomfortable. I was close enough to where if I decided to lean in, just a little, I could hear it. I was inches away from my great desire, his heartbeat. I was a little concerned that he was an android and I just wanted to… he could have a pulse… Near reached into a pocket I didn't know existed when he extended a rectangular thing to me. I squinted at it, unfocused and under the influence of some unknown intensity. It was intoxicating and I was suffocating… I needed something more than I would… could… ever admit.

This was something I felt with Near and Near alone, forever. Noticing my unresponsiveness, he attempted communication, but I was long lost in my vapid, swimming thoughts. What I was aware of was the feel of a smooth, cold chocolate bar in my mouth soon after, and I tried to obtain it, but I was so absent… And there we sat as I let him feed me and whisper things in my ear that I couldn't comprehend.

I have no idea how long we were there, but the moment or the hours that we spent there was a strange kind of pure bliss. And absorbed in Near, I lost all awareness of everything… And soon I felt the caress of his soft, silky pajamas… the contours of his body, and his arms gently draped around my chest. I didn't think he would be this large... He smelled strangely of sticky sugars and plastic packaging and … I couldn't think much while I laid in his chest listening to his lulling heartbeats … And I was out.

* * *

À suivre…

* * *

_I'm baaaaack! How wondrous, hm? Cinco de Mello? C'mon, that one was practically asking for it._

_At any rate, while I was away, I couldn't think about much else but this story when I was alone. I was about as obsessed as Mello is with Near. Well, definitely not that extreme… maybe as much as L hates Light. But I digress._

_Starting to see a pattern with the lines in French before each chapter? Well, time will tell when it comes to the meaning behind those verses. _

_Well, I'm tired. That's the end of Chapter Five. _

_Oh, you read Forevermore_

_Literature jungle in which Mello's losing it_

_And Near is a misfit (lol)_

_Oh, you read Forevermore_

_All that's missing is a review _

_So I'll further inspire you_

_Now that you've read Forevermore _

_Evermore_

_Evermore_

_(That one was a little cryptic, so I'll go ahead and tell you: It's the chorus to Empire State of Mind – Jay-Z (ft. Alicia Keys))_


	7. Mistletoe

_Tu t'appelle le vend, on qui arrive et part avec le soliel. Mais, je suis determine a pris toi, mon amour. _

**Forevermore- **Chapitre Six/_Six_

About as Mello as it gets

When I opened my eyes, blond eyelashes shielding me from the blinding fluorescent light, I found myself staring at a room with entirely white walls and the distinct beeps of a machine used in hospital wards. It was clear now that the paramedics, who I could hear conversing nearby, hauled me off to the doctor's in Wammy's once given voice that I'd burned out like a light. Only one of these voices sounded vaguely familiar to me, but I couldn't hear worth shit. Everything sounded underwater and the surrounding white walls were suffocating me. I turned my head cautiously towards the voices, only to have my eyes fill with an opaque beauty one could misplace in all of this white…

"Near… what's going on?" I asked, voice dragging on gravel.

"You were acting increasingly strange, so I went to retrieve help," he replied, placid, "Matt was nearby waiting for you, so I enlisted him; forceless. He knew just what to do; fed you and held you until you fainted, in which he carried you here. He had…"

"WHAT?" I sputtered, interrupting Near. He looked at me with those big gray eyes, but I wasn't playing games with him right now. All of those things I thought Near was doing… All of those romantic ideas that formulated in my head! No wonder I smelled sticky, artificial candy, that was Matt's breath from those nasty ass cherry lollipops! And that explained the largeness of the form… I…

"Uuuuuuh…" I mourned, thoughts of an emotionless boy becoming mine gone in the wind. I threw my head back on the pillow; face distraught and eyes squeezed shut. I had fantasized my best friend was _Near._ This was a lot to deal with.

When I regained conciousness, there was an eerie feeling on my forehead. Terrified, I kept my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. The person grazed my forehead with their fingers, soft touches like wind; I could barely tell it was there. It was somehow bittersweet and soothing, peaceful and spellbound; wanting to do something I wasn't aware of. My bangs moved with each graceful twirl, moving, but not out of my face like the goal should be. The person ceased their hypnotizing fingering abruptly and I couldn't say I wasn't disappointed at first, but I wasn't making any assumptions after my last great fuck-up. So, I waited to hear the voice of the person who so generously interrupted this little stroking spree.

"Near, you're still in here?" An older boy, or just a boy with a deeper voice inquired, "Mello's not waking up anytime soon, y'know. Why don't you go do a puzzle or something, and I'll watch him for you?"

This could only be Matt… Near? THE Near? It really was him this time! My heart swelled with a kind of ecstasy I couldn't explain.

"No, I think I am capable…" I heard a slight shift of his oversized pajamas on the seat, probably leaving the conversation to resume his seemingly more important business.

"Near, you haven't left him for the whole two days he's been out!"

"Well, it's technically one and a half days but…"

"Who gives a fuck? Have you even changed clothes? What have you been eating?" A slight condescending breath noise emitted from Near at this part, "Where have you been sleeping?"

Silence.

My heart started thumping rapidly and my stomach had riled into millions of knots. Holy shit. Holy shit.

"No way…" Matt skepticized but that inch of disbelief and bewilderment in his voice sang a different tune.

"I know what you believe happened, and I have done no such thing. In what context does Mello deserve that amount of trust from me?" Near stated, logical and clear-minded as ever. I knew that if Matt accused me of sleeping with Near the first day I met him, I'd be so pissed… but the idea was intoxicating. To earn all of the trust from that complacent albino would be a victory like no other.

However, I had to pull it together. Classes started back up the very next day, and I couldn't afford an absence.

I pretended to stir, awakening myself, looking truthfully sleepily at Near, then Matt.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty." Matt taunted, making for the exit, "I'll go tell Roger his favorite little orphan has awakened from her slumber." He then left, cracking himself up.

But I wasn't in the mood for Matt. My mind was fully elsewhere.

I gazed up at Near, eyes full now. I needn't get his attention; he was looking down at me, fearless.

"Mello, I know you heard the things we said. Your heart monitor is rather quiet, but I heard it speed up when Matt …" He trailed off, leaving me to interpret the rest.

"You know Near, tomorrow, when classes resume, we're going to be competing," I said, throat sore from abstinence.

"…We're going to be rivals, I presume?" Near asked, but his question already had an answer.

Anybody who had come into the orphanage a predetermined potential successor was heavy competition at this point. I couldn't risk anything, so I told him beforehand how it was going to be.

At this point, I was unaware to why I'd even started a friendship in lieu of the inevitable…

"I'm so nervous about it … What should we say?" I said, a fingernail floating to my mouth, the copious absence of chocolate not missing my attention.

"Are you speaking of the conference we have with L?"

"Yes… I…"

"I am just going to observe the other children.

It isn't that I don't have my questions for L, but I am quite certain that L's answers will be somewhat ambiguous and questionable themselves," Studying my face, hands on his knee, he further elaborated, "I do not suppose that even one of his answers will be a straight-to-the-point question. He wants to see who is capable of thinking as he does, and this is what I infer L would do." Near dictated, and his calculated approach was making a lot of sense to me. He was right; being a detective, and incredulously brilliant, L wouldn't provide raw answers. He wants to see how we respond to hidden questions. The statements, or answers per say, we derive from the questions asked would depend on us, and the level of our deductive ability.

"Hold on. The _other_ children?" I sputtered, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Mello, you were listening to Roger, correct?" Near said, head cocked, staring at me with his blank eyes.

"I'm sure I was!" I barked, voice cracking partly from the sudden employment, and partly from my anxiety-spun throat, my stomach now queasy and my heart wedging itself in my esophagus.

"Well, what did you hear?" He said, a dim look caressing his face, a new, serious air surrounding him.

I was a little scared now, a chill creeping up my back.

"Um," I didn't want to displease him with my answer, but it was so painfully obvious that I would, "I heard that he was concerned about having more than one successor? And that we," I shifted my finger back and forth indicating to Near and I, "would be having a conference with him."

"Tonight?" Near demanded, eyes half-closed and glazed over.

"Y-yeah…" I stammered, possessed by Near's profound spirit.

"Alone?" Near said, letting his eyes grow large and light again. Had he already reached a conclusion about my answer?

"Yes…" The letters crept out of my mouth, my puzzlement enveloping each one. A carefree Near sat adjacent to me, curling his hair in his fingers, a half-smile on his face. He nodded only once, (probably laughing at me) and the smile dissipated.

His answer was pretty clear.

"Mello, I'm not sure what twisted allusion of grandeur you have,"

I slit my eyes, a predatory look donning my face.

"But we are not chosen successors to L; not yet. Roger said that L would choose by having a conference with all of Wammy's children in December. I would suppose it would be near Christmas, but we cannot be certain on a date."

…! How did I…?

"He'll only pay attention to 1-10…" I gritted my teeth.

'_How the fuck do you fuck that up?' _ I screamed at myself. I fought back angry, anxiety ridden tears as I spout out profane phrases in my head.

I was sure that I was going to succeed L! How could he not want me? I'm number frikkin' one! The anger coursed through my veins, flames fusing with my blood, and I grimaced as it raced throughout my body, hurting my fingertips and toes. This was blasphemy. But, all that aside, it didn't change the fact that this evening, I was going to have to do my best to please L. I didn't want anyone else to take the top spot. I'd have to think of some good questions…

But for now, I'd have to pay attention to the problem in front of me.

Near.

He was my competition as of now. No matter what I, or he, thought of it. However, he knew that we were rivals even before I did; he heard Roger. The distant memory of Near playing with my hair crackled in my head and suddenly, I was fascinated and extremely curious.

"Near, why were you stroking my forehead?" I piqued, distracting my interest from L's conference.

He smiled, genuine, yet formulaic; twisted, but ridiculously adorable.

"Simply because I like you, Mello."

With that he pushed my bangs out of my eyes once more and departed, leaving a surprised and hung-up blonde, stuck to his bed alone, dreaming of what he could have possibly meant.

After Near left, I had about an hour to myself before anyone led me out of that place. It had already started to drive me crazy by then, but I had time to think. There would only be one solution to this problem that I faced with Near; if he stayed in second place. I mean, kids 2-5 would be furious (with the exception of Matt), but they wouldn't do shit to him without my consent, and if they did and I found out, I'd kick their asses, no matter the gender.

But, I knew that if Near were to surpass me, he would spark an untamable fire.

…

I had to say I was proud, because a month later, there was Near, peering into the top 3 at number four. There wasn't a shadow of doubt that he was my pet now, for he came into my room every Thursday to converse with Matt and I. He was surprisingly good at Super Mario Bros. 3. Whenever it came time for Matt to leave, Near would move closer to me, but he never allowed any contact rather than the occasional hand-touch and he'd leave soon after, a gaze that lingered too long replacing the lust I had for the feel of his lips against mine. It became apparent with unrelenting observation that the loudspeaker still frazzled him. I also noticed that a thunderstorm was brewing outside one night, and after a threatening crack of its lightning whip, Near ducked into his room, not to be seen for the rest of the night. I wasn't sure what was going on, but I had a need to find out. But it was too early for me to avail in my case. I'd have to wait until I was close enough… to touch him.

**Christmas, 1997**

Well, it wasn't Christmas _yet_, but it was December and it was snowing and we were all unraveling the decorations, placing our stockings in the Dome, the heart of the Dormitory. As we tacked each stocking around the enormous room, all 50 or such of us as we did every year. Red, green, white, gold and brown stockings decked each labeled section indicating your career path.

Something I had forgotten to mention about Wammy's is that after you fall behind fifth place in the rankings, you have to take up another career path.

'As backup,' they say in consolation, but the truth of the matter is after you fall from 7th place, you can kiss your chances of ever succeeding L goodbye. But the remainders of the children, from Numero 8 to Nombre 52, were savants in other fields. From baking to dancing to workshop and art, every child in Wammy's was aiming to become the next up-and-coming in their field. However, it was undisputed that the ones bestowed with the honor to compete for the position of the next L were the most important and by far the highest step on the ladder. Near, at this point, had turned heads and sparked rumors; now the 3rd best in the orphanage. He'd certainly gotten the attention of the former Numbers 4 and 5 and even Matt, who'd previously been third, was less than enthusiastic about being demoted to fourth in such a short time. Though he continued not to care and do what he did best; hack computers, reconfigure old, damaged Nintendo software and play those video games. It's been said that the goggles he wears actually have lenses in them; and the prescription level is extraordinarily high. I waited patiently as he hung his stocking in our rightful place on the fireplace, in front of number 5, a hard-ass called Cei. The top three spots were placed higher up away from the hearth to the brick stack of the chimney. The silver and bronze numbers two and three hung on either side of the slightly higher up, but still obviously superior Number One spot. I smugly donned my stocking, the sole black one, upon the golden nail, the constant reminder of my absolute power and glory hanging above its soft, white cuff. I wrapped my crystalline beaded, gold threaded rosary around the nail, the elegant crucifix dangling aimlessly in the outer folds of the stocking. I stepped back to behold and smiled, pleased with my fixation. Nothing said "Buon Natale" like the corpse of the Son of God wavering in front of your stocking. I tied a small bit of fresh holly to the tack for effect, enjoying the fresh wintry scent. It was always the best when Roger and the other teachers returned from the lot with a fresh pine tree, smelling richly of coniferous tree. I could smell the hot chocolate and the crisp holly leaves already… I was so in spirit, I wasn't wavering at the mistletoe as usual.

My birthday celebration just days earlier was blithe, and ever since I had been in a fantastic mood. We had my favorite double Dutch chocolate cake, and hot chocolate and I was permitted to eat as many chocolate bars as I wanted, rather than abide my three-a-day limit. Matt had gifted me a Brennda CD, which I knew was a stupid, STUPID gag gift, and a new jacket I'd really wanted, and I graced him with a benevolent hug. The best part was that Near had come, the very first birthday I'd shared with him, and the last that I'd enjoyed in this friendly manner. He'd apologized for not buying me a present, twirling that hair of his in his shy, erratic way, and I just smiled at him and handed him a straw. We sucked on the same foot tall glass of hot chocolate while we all watched a movie Roger purchased for me. He'd tugged on my shirt gently during the film, and held out a half of a chocolate soaked gigantic marshmallow. I smirked and enveloped the marshmallow with my mouth, catching a finger in my mouth as well. Near looked ashen at such forbidden contact in public. This only fueled my desire to purely shock him more, so I licked at the marshmallow, unafraid to touch his fingers. He was only seven and was not aware of the effect I'd wanted the things I was doing to him to have. I sucked in, taking the marshmallow with me and leaving a shocked, blushing Near behind.

I'd been focused on the movie ever since then, so when I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder, I thought nothing of it. But that tap soon turned into the weight of a body against me. It wasn't a heavy weight, but it was bothering me not to know who was leaning on my shoulder. I'd turned my head to scold the perpetrator, but I was met with a face full of lush snowy hair. My heart sped, catching up with the cars on the screen, as I gently moved my shoulder to see if Near was awake. When the listless form fell into my outstretched arms, I cradled the younger boy, unconscious and vulnerable, fragile as glass. I don't know how long I was there, my face so close to his our eyelashes intertwined, holding him close to my chest and running my fingers through his soft wavy hair. It was so real and so surreal at the same time… He stirred in his sleep a bit, cuddling closer to the warmth of my body, causing me to blush, a pink kind of fire burning deep in my chest, warming me unconditionally.

"Happy Ninth Birthday, Mello!" the children squealed, and I really had had one… A nice birthday party.

I'd snapped out of my flashback to see all of the other children gone.

Well, all of the children besides one.

Finally emerging from the chrysalis, Near shuffled his way into the Dome, yawning and wiping the crust and sleep tears from his eyes. I stared at him with the same boring look I plastered on my face when any adult was talking to me, any uninteresting kid was trying to get my attention and when Matt was rambling incoherently about something insipid and meaningless. I pretended to be apathetic to him, but I never could. He met my eyes, and smiled in his twistedly enticing way.

"Good morning, Mello, and Buon Natale."

I smirked back at him; unable to paint over the canvas I'd been given. When it came to Near, I was barely ever in control.

"It's Christmas Eve, Nia-tan," I responded snarkily, the affection in my voice unable to dissipate under the words.

"Actually it's December 23rd but…"

"Why do you do that? On purpose, to annoy me?" I shot, hands on my black pajama-clad hips.

"What do you…?"

"Near. I know you're just stating facts like you do so well, but please. It really drives people up a fucking wall."

He nodded in comprehension, and tilted his head at me, smile ever present. He startled me, and I tensed.

"…Wh…what's with that mischievous smile?"

"Oh, it isn't much of anything, just… I was wondering why Mello gave me advice when he is scared of the way I'm advancing through the class…" He responded, a small frown replacing the strange yet lovely smile.

Scared? Ha!

"Mello, tell me," He accelerated towards me, the whitest stocking in hand, a small bough of mistletoe strung through the hole. He hung it carefully in the number two spot, perfecting every aspect. I was listening and watching him intently, when I came across the fact that he'd hung his stocking in the 2nd place spot.

"Near, you're in the second place spot…" I corrected him, grabbing the stocking by the hole. But he held the stocking to the hearth, disallowing me to remove the sock.

"Mello, our semester grades have been posted. You may not need to check them, but everyone else goes down to look at the bulletin board in the school district," That is what it's called in Wammy's. One of the branches from the Common Room, the School District is an arrangement of 35 different classrooms and a library, each for every career and one extra class for each kid. The kids in 8th, 9th and tenth still had hope that they could enter the ranks again, but those were extremely high expectations.

"I have advanced to the second place spot. Second only to you, now." His gray eyes burned a hole in my arm and I released my force, and the stocking fell on the silver nail.

"And L…" I trailed off, gazing at the floor. Near's frown was ever present as he came closer to me, my stare lost in the brown tile underneath my bare feet. I didn't even notice as Near shuffled his way into my shadow. I didn't notice when he took my hand and led me to the doorway. I just guessed he was going to show me the scoresheet as we glided our way over the cold airy floor… But I snapped back to reality when we stopped in the doorway and Near turned, obstructing my gaze with those big smoky eyes. I glanced at him expectantly when he looked to the floor, biting his lip and blushing a little. Genuine confusion worked itself into my brain. I assessed my surroundings, wondering what could make Near act so malapropos until I looked at the top of the doorframe.

"Oh…"

SHIT.

There hung a sickeningly sweetly scented bough of mistletoe, white berries glistening in the morning light. I blushed, my face itching to make a move. Near was also a little feverish, his eyelids a little heavy as he peered at me through his long, luscious eyelashes. His blush was much subtler than mine, I noted, which kinda turned me on, and I leaned in towards him, the fresh smell of linen and sugar enveloping my nose.

Oh damn.. I hadn't realized the effect this would have on me, as the anticipation of linking my lips to Near's so soon washed over me, drenching me in euphoria and anxiety. I gently embraced him, pulling him close to me, our warmth conversing underneath the parasitic plant. His hair curled against my forehead as I delved farther, rubbing the tip of my nose against his cheek. He shivered, tensing as I drifted my lips above the same spot. His eyes were shut tight and his cheeks were so pink… Though I wasn't much better. My face was certainly red and my breathing wasn't steady. But he'd proposed the kindling of this fire and I was planning on going through with burning it. Every small move and gesture of his was like adding a log or sparking a new flame; just feeding my needs with everything but oxygen. I felt the blood rush through my veins as I grazed my lips against his own, enrapturing me in his softness. He was incredibly flustered now, and his breathing was shallow. I felt like I was giving him a heart attack. I smirked against his lips, no longer holding back. I smashed my lips against his, eliciting a small whimper. I pushed him instinctively so that his back was to the wall. I moved my lips against his in small whispers of passion, appetite sky-rocketing as he kissed back, tentatively. I caressed him lovingly, wanting to be able to touch him and stick my tongue down his throat; even knowing had to control myself. I knew I couldn't, I knew the impossibility, and even though I was getting off on melting that icy demeanor, I had to let him go. No matter how my blood was pulsing, and my tongue was aching. I released the boy, letting him pant and stare at me with those half-lidded eyes, his blush spreading to his cheekbones. Was I the only person to see him this way? So flustered, sexually inclined and cute. I… this was indecent. Thoughts of the things I could be doing to him, right here, right now spread themselves out all over my brain, but we were too young, and I was too proud. I backed away, trying not to drool or break our gaze.

"Was that… too much?" I apologized, blush still gracing my face.

Near blinked a few times before responding in a raspy, sultry, painful-to-hear voice, "I think… that Mello wanted to do that… and liked it…"

He gasped quietly and licked his lips saying this next part, "And… I enjoyed it… too… I would have more so if we were older and I could… know…" He closed his eyes, blush fading, and fell to the floor. He blinked, but never looked at me a second time. I quietly stalked out of the room, not failing to chime behind me,

"Thanks for the kiss."

And licking my lips, I strode down the hollow hallways of Wammy's to get to class.

* * *

À suivre…

* * *

_Bonjour, friends!_

_Ah, good ol' chapitre six, how full of surprises are thee? And I have super news: I wrote Chapter Seven at the exact same time! Release date: Later. Aww, too bad, huh? Don't worry it won't be too long._

_On a further note, Mello and Near are starting to get a little intense. I think they should wait a while before jumping into bed with each other. Though Miha didn't seem to mind… huhuhu~._

_Anyway, I hope this chapter wasn't too long for you. Went on another trip to see a Rangers game. Thought about Forevermore, of course. Why you so obsessed with me? Sam, I wanna know? _

_Ah, well, cheers. Thanks for reading Chapter Six! Please hang around!_

_(Just write a review. I don't feel like song parodying right now.) (P.S. S'il vous plait.)_


	8. The Conference

"_Et j'essais a decouverte mes amis, mais touts les ils etaient n'est pas ici… Ils partaient avec toi… Et je suis tout seule."_

**Forevermore-** Chapitre Sept/_Seven_

The Keehler

Christmas was rather uneventful at first, the same excited children for their un cadeau. The same annoying squealing and trash filled Dome. I was always grateful for the small thing I got though, and usually it was pretty thoughtful. And I'd never say it, but I was a little eager myself.

This year, though, Santa pulled a sweet little prank… and put a stalk of mistletoe in my stocking.

SHIT.

Someone had seen us!

I shifted my eyes frantically around the room to see if anyone was looking my way… only they could be the one who'd seen…

But no one was paying any attention to me, not even Near, who just sat on a couch with his prized Optimus Prime standing stoically on the table, smirking like he knew a hilariously evil joke. Looking back at the mistletoe, I tried to shield it from the public, hoping they wouldn't catch the significance of it to me. When I shoved it in my pocket and continued to inconspicuously stare at Near (if that was possible), a girl with bobby pigtails presented him with his gift. He thanked her politely, dismissing her from his space, but her gaze lingered a little too long for my liking. It's not like _she_ had gotten him the gift. She needn't stare at him like he was a piece of candy. He didn't even seem to notice the pink-jacketed girl stare him down as he picked at the wrapping paper, small, graceful fingers undoing the ribbons. Each tear was organized and fell into a neat pile of silvery strips that he'd ripped off already. He was so unlike the other kids that tore into their presents like their life depended on it, throwing paper every which way and squealing just nearby. After he'd undone the last bit of paper, I was becoming excited with Near's present; a simple white box laid in front of him. Curiously, his small hands lifted the top of the box, his head tilted in expectation. I watched as a wide smile crept onto his face, and he lovingly lifted out a blanche puzzle with nothing but a black letter L in the corner. He looked genuinely happy, and the girl eyeballing Near sort of squealed. I grit my teeth in annoyance. That wasn't hers to squeal over and she should know it! I angrily snatched Near's stocking and stalked over to the beige couch he was sitting on.

"Near," I didn't fail to demand, and he did not fail to answer.

"Good Morning, Mello. Joyeux Noel." He fingered his new puzzle as I sat next to him, possessively interlocking our fingers. He tensed, shocked, and directed his attention to the conjoining of our fingers. I squeezed his fingers in mine, and smiled lovingly at him. I brought the stocking to have a reason to be over here, but I realized that he was reason enough, if that's not too cheesy…

I mean I had come over here to prevent that lecherous girl from getting her hands on what was rightfully mine, and as of yesterday, I don't think that'd be happening anytime soon.

"...Mello." Near said, directing my attention from my possessive thoughts. He pointed at the stocking I held, mistletoe dangling. "Oh, oh yeah," I stumbled, and I tossed the stocking at him. He opened it, pulling out a Rubix cube and a candy cane, and… a stalk of mistletoe.

Someone'd decided to alert him as well? Who could have seen us?

"Oh, yes…that's right," Near whispered, and the mistletoe disappeared from sight. Then he slid his eyes up to me, smirk twisting itself out on his face like a Slinkie. "Tu as recu ce cadeau, aussi?" Near asked, a sleeve of his large shirt sliding off, baring his right shoulder. I leaned in to fix his sleeve, gently pulling it back over his thin shoulder, making him tense and shudder when my long finger stroked his bare powdery skin. I looked at his smiling, blushing face, when a conclusion struck me faster than lightning. Near… and the mistletoe in our stockings…

"Near," I demanded, trying to be serious, but a grin of humor and relief kept crawling onto my face, "Did you happen to put this in my stocking?"

His little smile confirmed all suspicions.

"Damn you, you concerned me you little freak!" I snapped and laughed at the same time, all anxiety gone.

"Well let's see what I got, eh?" I joked, as I did with the other boys. "Mine will be far better than yours…" I smirked and dug into my stocking. He observed me like he would a chemistry experiment; with vigor. "The bag of surprises, what's inside, the sock of wonder, open yooour eyes! " A kid sang from across the room, and though it wasn't directed at me, I couldn't think it was any stupider. I pulled out a small, wrapped box, several mini chocolate bars, one Dark Chocolate with Caramel, and…socks?

"Ha ha, socks." I rolled my eyes.

"It is a possibility that those were meant for me…" Near said, tone flat. He reached over, breathing thick and heavy. I kept them safe out of his reach, laughing. "These are my Christmas presents, you stealing little fuck!" He fell into my lap with a satisfying thump. "Here, since you're so avid on new socks…" I gently pulled off one of the socks he was currently wearing, and replaced it with one of mine. He seemed unemotional about this, but a frosty rose bloomed on his cheek, and I saw a kind of pink in his eye… He was adorable. I fit the other sock on my foot, and smiled at him in knowledge of our secret.

I didn't know what it was then, but my deepest, darkest secret was hidden in the folds of his clothes, the contours of his body, the curls of his hair, the beats of his heart, the words from his mouth… every face, every gesture, every tug and grasp and kiss… My secret was embedded in Near, and that was where it was meant to stay… Forever.

"_And longer, Mello."_

_I winced, unsure of the substance behind his words… And as he waved a hand, gesturing as if to say, "You know, Mello… think."_

_A wave of realization washed over me as I grinned with pride. _

_Forevermore._

"Whoa… how did Santa know I wanted _this_?" I mused in bewilderment as I pulled out a silken covered golden crucifix. The one I possessed hung on a nasty beige string and had a very gothic appeal to it, but the one I received this Christmas was molded from a fine gold, hung on a delicate chain, and was donned with a beautiful red gemstone. A circle looped the center where the body of the Lord would have been, basic and round, yet intricate lines curling around the thick border. My gracious and ecstatic smile was undeniable as I hooked the most precious thing I'd ever owned around my neck.

A note cascaded out of the stocking after I'd turned it upside down to see if I'd forgotten anything. I picked it up, curious.

"Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas, Mello.

I hope you enjoy your lovely new presents. Take care of them both. I got one of them for myself also, though, so, do not hog it like you do so adamantly, as Roger puts it.

Best Regards,

L."

Wow. L had gotten me this? I lifted it gently in my fingers. I'd… I'd never take it off! No one else had gotten anything from L, I bet! I was elicit. But… what had he meant by "take care of them both"? There was nothing else in there and I was positive that it was not the socks… Or did the socks…

Suddenly it dawned on me. My heart felt light as my lungs overfilled with air, as I smiled just barely, a new light shining.

I looked over at my socked foot and Near's matching sock, and I beamed with admiration, my lashes brimming with tears.

That was it.

That was my present. It was the socks.

I didn't understand the significance of having Near at that point. Not in the least. I'd just been grateful L had sent me someone I was interested in; no matter how he'd possibly be aware of how Near would make me feel.

But L had thought ahead. And he knew I wouldn't be able to do it.

Not alone.

I'm questioning whether he really knew what I was capable of.

What I could do with so little, what drive I really had. He didn't evaluate us with the thick insight he was so heavily associated with. If he had, he'd have seen it should have been me.  
Hell. I would have been well off if he'd made the damned decision to have Near and me succeed him together.

L could have talked to us more. But it seemed he didn't even want to know us… The only window I had to see him through was the mass conference, and with the little I gathered, the view was still indistinguishable…

* * *

Later that evening, superfluous flames were licking at my mood. I was so angry and spiteful because of the fact I wasn't the chosen successor, and so passionate and anxious and so fearful, not to mention I was distressed by Near…

I wanted to do well on this, of all tests.

I'd been thinking about the analogy he had made months ago, and how I didn't even dream to think of something like that. I was terrified that he would ask a smarter question that I would and L would choose him rather than me… I severed a piece thoughtfully off of the chocolate bar in my hand.

Even though Near had said that he was going to merely observe, I was still suspicious of him. Even though I was number one at the moment, I was still wary of Near and his intellectual wiles. I didn't want him to… I didn't love Near, and I certainly didn't want him to surpass me, but I still didn't want him, of all people, to become the target of my tumultuous rage. I didn't want to have to bully him every day and hope that he would eventually break, and wish that all my stress would go away, and one day I'd be the best again. I didn't want our situation to become that pathetic.

_Damn it, damn it, damn it all to hell! _

I entered the common room, where lots of the children were chattering anxiously, though our nervousness was not alike. They were giddy and squeaky, and I delved my way into them. I didn't have to push them around; they parted immediately, like the Red Sea. I couldn't control my thoughts at this point, as I followed the blue duct tape with my eyes from its first point to its last, curving around at least half of the room away from the piano and the back door leading to the outside. The last peels of the sun's light fell through the window, orange and red like the leaves on the autumn trees. As noticed as I was I strode in, I was able to slip away to the back of the room to get my thoughts together. I stared out the window, speculating the beauty of a sunset. The clouds rolled around the sky like marbles; the wind fueling them and whisking leaves off of trees. I wished I could see the pond from this window… I think a sunset would be divine from that view. The nicest thing was that even though outside the wind was probably whistling like a bird, I couldn't hear any of it. And just as silent, Near crept in, invisible to the kids and oblivious in return. I was so lost in watching the birds and leaves fly in the sunset, didn't even notice him until Roger cleared his throat, directing everybody's attention to the side of the room unoccupied by children. He'd pulled out a giant corkboard full of tacks, notes and other leaflets. I spotted a schedule, confirming my theory: 7:00 to 7:30; Full House; 7:30 to 8; Top Ten. They had titles like FAQ and Q&A, Detective 101, and Profound Questions to Ask L. Basically, ways to cheat your way into getting L to tell you anything you wanted to know.

I didn't expect any specific type of answer from L, despite Near's predictions. Comparative to myself, I genuinely believed L wasn't one to do the expected.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a white figure sit delicately on the white tiles of the common room floor and spin a Rubix Cube in his hand flamboyantly. I supposed this consisted of his eccentricities, as he locked it into place and started to twist it expertly. Puzzles were strewn out among him, including his three new ones and a couple Rubix cubes. He cranked and twirled the colorful block in his hand, studying each cube mindfully.

The only thing reason I became distracted from my intensive study, (…of Near..? Urm, ah..that… it I.. …No!…It isn't what it sounds like…!) Was that a chestnut-haired, pigtailed girl entered the room, obviously tardy, and exclaimed, "Sorry I'm late, everybody!"

Why she even drew attention to herself is beyond me.

"Tchhh!" One kid voiced. "Not her, not Linda!" Another boy jibed. The girls were loudly defending their friend with idiot rebuttals like, "She had an art project," and, "It's not like L has said anything yet!" The boys started yelling insults back and they ignited a war. Roger attempted to force them to cease fire, but the two groups kept firing cannon after cannon, all because that stupid girl showed up late. "Girls are retarded!" One shot.

"Shut up, what about all the retarded people you just offended!" A tinny voice cried.

"Jerks!" Another girl chimed.

I clenched my fists; I wasn't going to make L wait because of their incessant bickering!

"Oh, shut the HELL UP." I projected indignantly, and the whole room silenced. I was finally able to enjoy the sound of the wind outside. I glared at the lot of them, disgusted and went back to munching my chocolate bar. But it was apparent they didn't get it yet, as Matt signaled a kid over to him and he challenged, "She's the most annoying, right Mello?"

The kid looked at me daringly. The pigtailed girl's eyes darted around the room and finally settled on the ground, big brown eyes distressed and mortified. I wasn't going to humiliate her any further. I wasn't concerned about the poor girl showing up late, and I wasn't going to ruin her life pretending like I was.

"I really couldn't care less," I said dismissively, and the rest of the kids dropped it. Her friends waved her over, but the stupid girl was advancing towards me. _'Goddammit…' _I thought, wishing she'd appreciate my gesture from afar, when her direction changed from me right to…

Near?

I tried not to look like I was staring at her, appalled with her ignorance and stupidity. But more than that, I was… confused. Near?

Why… why Near? I bit anxiously off of my cheap Hershey's chocolate bar, observing her approach him out of the corner of my eye. My heart started to glaze over like an icicle, prepared for battle. I didn't know what made me so possessive, but I really… I couldn't stand her there. It was unnatural, it was WRONG. Near really wasn't paying attention to her though, and continued spinning the squares into place. The girl stood there for a second, with a giggly, happy face like…_it was a crush._

"Hi, Near," she said, bashfully, candy coating her words.

This sickened me to an extent, but I couldn't look away from her. I had to understand her motive behind talking to Near.

"Good evening, Linda," Near answered, not even bothering to grace her with a glance. I was satisfied, and smirked subtly.

"Um, so… What, what do you plan on asking L?" She posed, fiddling with the buttons on her jacket and blushing madly. What the fuck was going on?

"…" He raised his head a little, stopping the continuous spinning.

Near didn't prepare an answer for this question. He wasn't going to tell her what he told me, was he? I felt a pang in my chest; I guess I thought that it was some sort a secret between us… A confidence, if you will, and I didn't want him to include her in it. That would mean that it wasn't special at all, that I wasn't worth much to him, and my cheeks burned in humiliation.

"You better pray to God," I muttered under my breath, unfounded fury once again sprinting through my body.

"…We shall see," He said, lowering his head once again, and resumed solving the puzzle.

She seemed convivial with this answer, giggling, "Well, I'm sure Near's question will be the greatest!" And she bounded off to join her friends. Near continued his puzzle like she was never there, but his eyes… were different. I was deeply perturbed by this, and I wanted to find out what his problem was, but I was pulled away again, and this time, it was important.

"Alright children, we have set the preparations to connect you to L." Roger stated. A strict female teacher, her dark hair tied in stringy bun, wheeled the black storage cart into the room. The children promptly crowded around the blue tape, more excited then I had ever seen them. I continued to stare at his snowy white hair, not a gaze returned until the kids started to make a commotion. Roger turned the monitor on, and they were met with a black screen. I sensed disappointment and surprise, but mostly frazzled nerves and jubilant moods.

"Pay attention, kids. You might learn something today." Roger mumbled and the female teacher spout out from behind the computer and left the room. I supposed her rank wasn't high enough to see this, and it made me smirk, the fact that mere children were both smarter and higher up on the corporate ladder than she was.

A blindingly white color sprawled itself all over the screen, and a Gothic letter L flashed in it's wake. Broadening itself, it settled, an ominous air to it. Near glanced at it, and continued changing the Rubix cube around. His face became a little depressed, as he solved all but two sides to the cube, realizing he'd have to start over. He bit his lip, concentrated yet bothered and newly able to half-listen to the jabbering among the kids. But they were all silent now, L certainly studying each and every one of them, at least attempting to reach the faraway isle of names. It was about a minute until the screen uttered a word, and it sounded like its mouth was full.

"Allo dere tids~!"

I was taken aback by such an optimistic approach. Was he serious about this at all?

However, the voice didn't sound auto-tuned or modulated like the L on the TV's was. The British accent wasn't as predominant as I expected, his voice deep and somehow dark. It was certainly very amiable, and I listened, trying not to distract myself with the picture on the monitor. That wouldn't put any picture of the L into my head rather than a letter on a screen.

"You must have heard that I just completed a case… and I'm not sure if you can hear it in my voice but I'm a bit tired. But I supposed that it'd be only just to meet the children competing for the title of L. Being L, that's been a duty of mine that I have neglected… and I apologize. But we are quite busy up here, with all the applications that float our way."

It was a petty excuse, but it was one that we bought, so blinded were we by our idolization of L. The children were entranced with L, admiration flowing through the room like water in a river.

"So, where do we begin?"

Tons of dumb questions were asked, many were answered. Examples of these are, "Do you still care about the genius kids here no matter if they are in the top 10?" and "What political party do you support?" and so on and so forth until the average children left and the top 10 was left.

The questions of this set were satisfyingly more profound, and I found myself more engrossed in their questions and the way they talked to L, the way they wanted to portray themselves… I was partaking in the fantastically destructive activity of overanalyzing each question and answer, enjoying every moment and forgetting that I was much more than an advisor, standing like a statue, unchanging, mysterious, and observant. Near wasn't much different, besides his 'indifference' consisted of something close to toying around and seemingly ignoring L, though I was quite sure that he and I were doing the same thing.

Even Matt asked a good question. But the one who asked the question with the most impact was a kid called… shit… um, it was something like… Tui? Tila? I can't remember, but it was a guy with a girly name, but he wasn't gay. It was weird.

Anyway, he asked, "Why do you investigate for a living, L? Why that?"

Near seemed a little roused about this question and I listened intently.

"It's not a sense of justice."

My eyes shot to the screen. What the hell… what did he mean by something so ludicrous?

"Figuring out difficult cases is my hobby.

If you measured good and evil deeds by current laws I would be responsible for many crimes."

Well that was a giveaway. They say it takes a criminal to break a criminal. A convict would do anything with no threat of conscience whatsoever, anything to get the facts, the evidence they needed to solve the case, and, if it were grave enough, even his life would be a steady gamble. The police alone solved no great case. Not without a villain's intuition.

"The same way you all like to solve mysteries and riddles or clear video games more quickly… For me too, it's just prolonging something I enjoy doing."

"That's why I only take on cases that pique my interest. It's not justice at all." How…insensitive.

"And if it means being able to clear a case, I don't play fair." This was the part in which I admired L the most, "I'm a dishonest, cheating human being that hates to lose…"

To hear L make a statement so human, so blunt was the most inspiring thing I could ever hear. Everyone thinks of their idol as the perfect person, the one to look up to, the destiny you want to achieve. And to hear L admit he didn't abide by the "perfect, benevolent, justice-bringing" detective above all mold that we had all dutifully prepared for him made me respect him with an avidity I didn't know I could muster. He was rebellious, dominant and active in my eyes and I didn't want to be more like anyone else in the whole wide world.

Near was also staring at the monitor, but I was unable to determine whether he was disgusted, or surprised or merely being Near…

"It's not justice at all."

When we were dismissed at 8:00, the monitor disconnected and the corkboard rolled out, teachers flooding in to help dissemble the display, the children tumbled out the door with many different expressions on their faces. My mind was still reeling over L and the perfect question was lost upon the waves…

"Mels, you didn't ask a bloody thing?" Matt bounded over to me, his jacket slung over his shoulders, goggles donned with a half-grin half-frown.

I gave him a suspicious look until I figured I didn't really care much and shrugged it off.

"Nah. I was… just pondering, or whatever…"

* * *

"_I was right, Watari."_

"_What do you mean, L?" Watari responded at the sound of his name._

"_The number one, the dark one right there, Mello, and the recently updated number two, Near, the new boy over there," He said, analytical._

"_Yes?" _

"_They are suitable." He stated._

"_I see. I will contact Roger."_

"_They said not a word to me, merely observing, like true detectives, placid, interested and listening… they seem far superior… more astute than the others. But…" He trailed off._

"_What is your concern?" His caretaker queried._

"_The boys eyes… seem to be a little critical… How analyctic are they! That is certainly unhealthy…"_

"_Not any more so than drowning your stress in sweets, L."_

_L made a face and stared at Watari, astonished._

"… _It's… a… I…" He stammered, defensively. But undemonstrative, he turned back to the computer screen he was streaming on previously._

"_Please notify them of my decision." He stated to Watari, sitting on his legs._

"_Yes, L."

* * *

_

_à suivre

* * *

_

Author's documentations:

Welcome to a belated chapter of Forevermore! Sorry. Homework. Anyhow.

I love Near. He's so cute. I say this only because I had to look up the Chapter 109 of DN on my computer because I don't know L's blatantly shocking line by heart. So I got to see him canon. And damn, is he adorable. It's unsettling, how much he looks like L at this point. But in the flashback, there he is, looking practically edible. Though, no, I am not a pedophile, as he does not look eight. Err, seven, sorry.

However, Near has looked the same age for years. He JUST hit puberty, no joke, which is why it's unsettling.

It's like…a grown Justin Bieber. It's wrong. So damned wrong.

At any rate, (and do not get on to me about comparing Huston Beebear to Monsieur Snowflake, cuz you know that every dream boy is much cuter… cute.)

Um, at any rate, I notice... The French at the top of the page is getting lamer, and I apologize. And that I take FOREVER to get to anything exciting or good, but I'm trying my best... I'm sorry I'm slow! I suck! I'll try really hard to go faster, please be patient! At least I'm foreshadowing?

I'm starting to get the hunch that Mello prefers dark chocolate over other types, comme Milk and White.

I think the scale goes a bit like this-

White Dark Milk (however, any flavor, chocolate's practically the sole source of magic and love and peace in the world. Brings people together.)

But whatever floats your Mihaelian boat, Keehler.

Well. Time to jet. Hope you enjoyed this chapter of Foreverless. Say hi for me.

_If_

_ you review_

_I'll cheer_

_Review my story _

_The drama_

_The epic_

_The favorite_

_(Review the story!)_

_[I love reviews, yes I do~]_

_{That's super cryptic, and I'm sure you don't know it. It's the chorus from 'Leaning on You – Geto Boys. Fantastic song. So great. }_

_Love and leans,_

_~Sam_


	9. Hatred

"_Tu est la personne seule lais__sé__. Et je ne veux pas comprends que je veux a te voir.."_

**Forevermore—**Chapitre Huit_/Eight_

Mello

"Mello! Mello! Mello, open up, this is SERIOUS! Mello!"

A fist pounded insensitively on the sturdy entrance from the other side of the wall.

"Oh shit, oh shit…" He mumbled, his eleven-year-old voice beckoning from the hallways.

I smirked, in an exceptionally good mood. That day had given me good karma the whole way: I beat the boys at soccer, 25-0, I was praised in class, Roger accidentally over ordered the new shipment of chocolates so I had more than two times the amount to consume in a month… It was a perfect day, so far.

Until Matt came banging frantically at my door.

Hanging on my happy-go-lucky mood, I opened it and let him fall in from thrusting half of his body on the smooth surface of my door. Usually, he would have laughed with me and rolled over, asking if I wanted to play on his SNES. But today, he strangely jumped up, and stared at me, a fearful expression on his face. This puzzled me deeply. What the hell was going on? He fiddled with the fur on the ends of his vest in panic, rambling, "Mello, the grades for this term… They've been put up, and they've been put up it's... I, Mello, oh shit, Mel…"

"You know I hate it when you call me that." I snapped a bit off of my barely eaten chocolate bar. "Whatsa matter, Matt? You get bumped back to Fourth?"

Upon being beaten by Near, and failing to reach her former status as number 2, Cei killed herself. She may have been a total bitch and I didn't care about her at all; in fact, I barely even noticed her unless she tripped someone down the stairs or that time she poured punch down Linda's dress, the way she was strutting around like fucking Queen Bee, but she was a really smart chick. I would have thought her, out of all people, would have known better and done no such thing…

At any rate, upon hearing of this suicide, not caring, and eating two bars of chocolate throughout the funeral procession, Matt became number three and the race was on.

I'd immediately figured it was him and not me, since he was so genuinely apathetic about grades. It'd be easy to beat him with a fantastic brain and a good deal of effort.

But he stammered a barely audible 'No' and stared at me, brown eyes immense, on the verge of tears and shudders, like a deer in headlights.

It was bad. It involved me. And it involved the grades.

"No fucking way." I muttered in disbelief and he fluttered out of the doorway and my line of sight.

A look of sudden concern, gravity and realization took the place of my pleased face, as my eyebrows furrowed and Matt clenched his fists, anticipating the worst. I bolted out of the room, down the hallways, through the dome, brown and red and gold, walls, tapestries, carpets, pictures, documents and borders blurring past me in my expedience. The light slid in from the large overview windows, running with me as I jumped the banister once I was low enough, leapt over small children and their toys. I entered the opaque common room, light beaming through every pointed uniformed window, white as hell and blinding as if screaming, "Run, Mello, run!"

Sounds even blurred together, gasps, laughter, 'heys' and 'watch its!', the whirring of the man made wind that shoved past me as I barged into the School District, determined, but not prepared to see the horror that made all the Wammy children gasp as I slowed, coolly approaching the large bulletin board in the front of the hallway. My sneakers squeaked on the white, gold and teal tiles as I strode in, the dim fluorescent light seeming to change the color of my hair. I bit nervously off of the chocolate bar, hearing its snap echo through the entrance hall. Some of the more frightened and inferior children hid themselves in the folds of the wall between the one the bulletin board hung off of and the vast opening of the next smooth white-walled hallway, teal doors molding into its perfection. The golden border outlining the roof and floor of the room glowed faintly under the light, seeming to shine fakely while I walked forward. The children's faces were horrified, panicky, and even a little crestfallen as I advanced to the large whiteboard, the words "Term Grades Posted!" written all too enthusiastically in a green marker. Floods of papers donned the board, colorful round magnets keeping them attached. But despite the cheery looking façade, the neatly typed, systematic papers held a life-ruining secret as I scanned the board for the top spots. Naturally, I gravitated to the top left corner, names typed dutifully in black ink kept company by their numbers…

55. Katrine

54. Luther

53. Tenchi

… Who the hell were these people? What bland aliases! I saw quickly that this was the bottom of the pack and to try to avoid looking any more foolish, I scrambled over to the right side of the board, searching frantically with my eyes for the top ten.

10. Rae. 90%

9. Astin. 91.74%

8…7…6…5…4… they passed one by one, each departing more slowly than the others as nerve-wracking anticipation crept into my heart. My palms began to get sweaty and I became more worried by the second. What if I wasn't even on there? What if I've been kicked out of Wammy's? I was nearly shaky and trembling as my eyes cascaded tensely to the last names on the list.

3. Matt. 96.333%

A single drop of sweat beaded on my forehead and the butterflies were set loose as I anxiously traveled down the list, quivering in the tension between everyone in the room. My teeth chattered underneath my tightly fermented lips as my catlike blue eyes finally set themselves on the beginning of the worst year of my life.

2. Mello. 99.7%

...Did I read that right?

I skimmed it over one, two and three times over until I finally understood.

_2. Mello. _

_I was number two._

… How… did this happen? My eyes widened as far as they could go and my pupils narrowed in a disgusted, disbelieving fear. The hair stood on the back of my neck as my blood pressure dropped and my heart nearly ceased to beat. The world froze as my face and my spirit crashed into the floor with a deafening bang. The pieces flew every which way, cutting open the skin on my arms, stomach and shoulders, my heart trying to wry its way out of my body through my throat. Inconsolable from the point I comprehended the text before me, I writhed away in my own disgust and disappointment, humiliation and exploitation, my own demise, my own misery.

The empire had fallen.

I curled my toes and glared, face ashen, into the white tiles underneath my feet. How dare they be so bright and shiny underneath the lig...

White…

My eyes grew so quickly, I felt like my face was going to break. My eyebrows arched unevenly as the heat rose in my face. The last name on the list! It wasn't! It WASN'T.

My eyes darted up, a venomous chemical starting to burn the insides of my stomach. My head started to hurt and my lungs started to burn each time I let go of the air trapped inside. It substituted as a sort of extinguisher for the fire that was ripping through my chest and stomach as I cautiously advanced to the last name on the list.

'Not you, not you, it can't be… It can't be! I KNOW it _can't_ be.' I thought frantically, but it was inevitable from the beginning.

Black, bold and fearless, there it read.

1. Near. 100%.

My whole body flexed and tensed, clenching my fists and gritting my teeth. An unmistakable rage started to merge with my blood, scorching the tissue underneath my skin, feeling like I could breathe fire. I was the dragon, bested by the knight, but not quite dead, the world tinted in crimson shades as he can feel his pulse, the hatred, the depression, the unachievable fearless thirst for vengeance and desire lurking deep within my soul. This was a mistake, and I would heal and I would rule again. Near was my enemy. Near could SUCK MY DICK. I screamed more profanity in my head, the inflammatory rage piling up. I angrily stomped out of the room, not failing to break a small plant pot to pieces as an exit, crushing the clay bits underneath my sneaker as if they were cockroaches, snapping into dust, somehow relieving my imminent stress. I breathed heavily as I slammed the heavy door so hard behind me, an older brunette maid, who quickly retreated in fear, could hear the crash. I reentered the common room, seething with animosity, sucking my tongue against the top row of my teeth. I ripped chunks off of my chocolate bar, trying to condole by showering myself with chocolate. Unfortunately, it tasted bitter and icy, like the hatred that was so instantly jetting through my bloodstream.

Suddenly, I needed to throw up.

* * *

_\\Common Room Bathroom_

Regurgitating every last bit of cacao that I'd just swallowed like I was allergic to it, I coughed, thoughts swimming. My icy eyes melted, the salty mixture racing down my face, combining with the foul orange and brown drool dripping off of my mouth. I tied back my hair with the wool string from my crucifix, which I kept in my pocket, yanked off the cross and tossed Jesus Christ to the floor. I wiped myself off with my sleeve, but it failed to block the rest of the oncoming liquids as my body completely emptied itself. I gagged and gasped and coughed and sobbed unwillingly, losing myself in my own unhappiness. I don't know and don't care how long I was in there, because thinking about it to this day makes me sick.

I'd lost. I'd _lost_. _I'd lost._

L… would never choose me now… L never… I'd never…

"Fucking Near! You bastard!" I screamed under my breath, through gasps and incoherent inane ramblings.

'Why did you have to take my spot… why… why…?'

Just then, the door opened and the scratchy, soft footsteps of a rather small sounding individual became louder and louder until finally… they ceased. My heart froze over at the possibility of it possibly being…

"…Mello?"

I threw up again.

I was about to wipe it off on my sleeve, sniveling and rather uncaring, but a pale, pajama cuffed hand obstructed my path with a hand towel and a small package of Kleenex. I was so pissed that he knew what I needed and he'd thought of me before I could… That he so smugly gave them to me as if I was a small child or an idiot. I angrily snatched these objects from his grasp, wiping myself off rapidly. I didn't want to give him some sick satisfaction from seeing this.

I knew it all along. He was trying to crush me. He became my friend, he let me trust him, and think that his trust would be a sort of reward, something worth fighting for! I kissed that pink little mouth for god's sake! I let him run his fingers through my perfect blond hair, which I was so particular about! I trusted him and he waited until I was vunerable… and then surpassed me, showed me his true skill. He was cunning and coy and tasted better than chocolate, but all of that was a mask put on by him to vex me, so he could claim the top spot! I hated him for manipulating me so. I'd never be his stupid little pawn in his grand game! He thought I was an easy opponent? Well, he was certainly wrong! I fumed as I blew my nose and he looked at me with those big, sultry gray eyes. When he saw me stare at him, his direction turned south and he stared at the beige tiles of the common room bathroom.

"Bastard." This seemed to catch him off guard. "How could you…? How DARE you?"

"Mello… I am sorry for your loss, but I refuse to apologize for becoming number one." Near twirled his hair, with his regular apathetic face, in his regular concealed mood. Today was not the day.

How could HE SIT THERE and NOT GIVE A SHIT that he'd just DEMOLISHED my life, my pride, my FUCKING DIGNITY? Everything I ever worked for disappeared in a day, gone because of him, because of stupid, bratty, unemotional NEAR!

I'd be ecstatic if he was sorry, satisfied if he happy, even, but for him to be bored, like he expected it, like it was another fucking day of being… Near! Why did he even come in here, knowing that he'd already won, and knowing me, that I'd be upset with losing?

_That little bitch wanted to rub it in. _

My eyes widened at this realization, and once again, I'd been humiliated. At this point, I was irate beyond reasoning with and, before I could grasp what I was doing I slapped him across the face, as hard as I could. I couldn't tell how he'd reacted to this as my vision was blurred with tears and I clenched the same hand into a fist. He made no sound, no movement, and I pulled my fist down to an immediate halt in front of his face.

"Is this how you get your fun, Near? I thought we were friends, at least, but I understand now." I curled my hand in his hair, the rain that had been burning my eyes now trickling down his red cheek. "Scrawny bastard," I muttered, yanking that perfect snowy hair, resulting in his head clashing against the tile with a satisfying bang… and a heartwarming whimper.

Was this what I was reduced to? Reveling in his pain with the precursor that I was winning? I wasn't going to lose that easily, especially not to Near, I concluded, and I stood up.

To think that not even a year ago, I had kissed this boy.

That would be the last time I ever let anyone manipulate me so easily. No one would come in now. I was determined to reclaim L's title, and any weakness…

I turned my head back to the heavily breathing boy on the ground, who was collecting himself. He touched the back of his head only once.

My life mission was different from that day forth:

To reclaim my rightful title as number one, and succeed L.

And to demolish Near, so that he may never again think to take my spot as number one!

Then and only then could I be satisfied.

I learned a new emotion that day…

Soul-eating hatred.

* * *

_À suivre…_

* * *

Yeah, Chapter Eight! The chapter of hate!

I was about to put a happy face at the end of Near. 100%, but I guessed that the situation was far too serious for that and it'd just piss Mihael off.

This one was short, and got to the point. The story gets interesting from here, so please don't leave me!

_I always say how I don't need one_

_But it always ends up coming right back to me_

_Pleeease please _

_Write a review for me_

_The particularly uneventful,_

_~Sam_

_EDIT: Once again, I suck (Mello's dick?) and fucked up. So, thank you Inky-Shadow for catching my mistakes. Beer's for queers!_

_EDIT 2: .com/watch?v=Fg4cy4hLjrs&NR=1 _

_Sorry, but... that was necessary to post. _


	10. Drowned

"_Pourquoi est la raison que je te veux? Que je t'aime? _

_Mon fleur cher..."_

**Forevermore-**_Chapitre Neuf/_Nine

I don't even need to tell you, do I?

"Haah… It happened again. Near's score was higher than his, again…" I heard him sigh from the other end of the hallway.

I'd been afraid they'd see us, so I ducked in the nearest corner, holding my hand over Near's mouth, hoping we wouldn't get caught, as I held him tightly against my chest. He was making no effort to struggle, so it was a rather easy ordeal to get him to come with me. Nestling into my chest, he actually seemed not to want to get caught in this… particular situation either.

We'd ran. I'd taken him and we fled. The paramedics shortly sent everyone out looking for Near, and I, of course, was the prime suspect in his kidnapping.

I knew that it probably was a dumb idea, but… Near hates the hospital ward. And I couldn't stand another minute in there; Roger hadn't heard about the incident yet. Even though I saved Near's goddamn life, I knew I'd get in the most trouble I had ever gotten in.

As Matt said, it all started when I heard that Near's algebra test grade was higher than mine…

I'd been strutting down the hallway listening to a song that always made me feel… better? Good, even? It was weirdly inspiring. It made me want to get up and face every next day knowing that Near was still beating me, by one or two points or even mere decimals. Those pissed me off the most, but also gave me a sort of pride in that I was getting better… and maybe even good enough to finally surpass him one day! Surpass Near, that was my greatest desire… then, maybe, we could work this out and if he promised me that he'd never double cross me and become number one again unfairly, then we could possibly be friends… no. That wasn't an option anymore. We were at the point where it was lovers or nothing. I blushed a little at this thought. I was only twelve, but I was already contemplating the feeling of a lover… of Near on my shoulder, in my arms. But since I hated him so much it was really hard not to imagine me locking him in a Half Nelson, choking that limp little boy half to death. I sighed. Why did my stupid thoughts always have to drift to stupid Near?

Whether it was lustful, hateful, thoughtful or romantic, my brain was circling around Near 24/7. There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think about him; live to beat him, breathe to love him. He was quite simply the worst thing that ever happened to me.

I sighed, trotting towards the dome; sullen as I was whenever I thought of the predicament I faced with Near.

I approached an open door, where some children were conversing. Usually I didn't care much, but accidentally overhearing someone retort this loudly,

"Surely Mello will surpass that shrivel of a kid! He's smarter and cooler than us all!"

I ducked behind the open door to listen further, making sure to be as silent as possible.

"Well, I think Near is a genius!" A familiar voice whined.

"We are all geniuses, dweeb." Another voice spat. I couldn't tell if it was a boy's or a girl's.

"Not quite… Not like Near and Mello…" She whispered dejectedly, and I smiled with pride. I really am ahead of the pack, huh?

But….

"If Mello's number two… with a loss like that, don't you think he'd be outraged?" The first boy obstructed the silence with his deeper voice, a sound likened to a hammer on a nail.

'…That's right…' I thought. Nothing will ever amount to being the best. Not to me.

"Yeah, now that you mention it… Why hasn't he kicked Near's ass yet?" The girl/boy responded, puzzled.

"Well they used to hang or something, you know."

"Nah, Near was totally his pet, like a kitty or something." The girl/boy teased in response, mostly towards… eugh… Linda, I presume…

Near wasn't just my pet, he was my property. I had him, if only for a little while. I shared my trust with him, though I didn't know him as well as I ever would when I hated him.

"Yeah, he is cute…" The girl swooned quietly. The hell? It was sickening me already.

"Erm, Linda?" The Garth Brooks of prepubescent kids questioned, disturbed.

Well, well, well. Can't say I am surprised. What an annoying girl. Like Near would ever like her.

Right?

"ANYWAY…" The hermaphrodite coughed and continued once he/she got the attention of the other two. "Do you think Mello will eventually snap?"

"Even on Near?" Linda questioned.

"I think especially on Near! Near could easily become the bane of his existence."

"How do you think?" The deeper voiced boy said slowly.

"Well, all of Mello's emotion regarding Near seems rather… intense," It said with caution, "instead of the indifference he treats the majority of us with. With a provocation like this, Mello will certainly…" She/he trailed off.

"I'll grab front row tickets at the fight." The boy laughed. "Mello would demolish Near!"

"Th-That couldn't happen! I won't let him! I'll stay with Near!" Linda panicked. "Especially today, since the term paper grades have been posted."

The term paper grades? Matt would be waiting for me in the dome then, as I had predicted.

Here's the deal: Matt was my most loyal friend. To be called my best friend, he had to be. And also, be willing to do shit for me I didn't feel like doing. The best thing about Matt was that he would take orders and not need anything in return. A good example of some shit I never felt like doing was wading through the children to check on my term grades, paper grades, and etcetera. I was inexperienced in such a practice, as I'd been in first place for most of my time at Wammy's. I was still unable to grasp the sharp reality of my downfall, and the depression that had followed. It'd been two weeks since that incident, and the entire orphanage was looking at me; watching, waiting for my next move. What would I do about Near?

"Ah, his reaction at the averages... He's been avoiding Near, but I'm surprised he hasn't beaten him yet." The girl/boy chuckled, and the lot of them left the room. They fortunately retreated in the opposite direction as I tried to speed it up to the Dome.

The large ceiling windows were cocked open and the chill of the outside protruded into the room. There he was, as I thought, apathetically playing a blue game console. "Kkkchu- pika!" The game cheered, as intense, pixilated music played in the background.

"Damn you, Gary…" Matt mumbled, sucking a lollipop in between his teeth much like an addict.

"Yo, Matt," I called.

"Oh, hey Mello. The term papers were…"

"Yeah I know. What'd you get?" I interrupted, more concerned with my current status. I'd been studying and writing and pulling almost all-nighters every day for the past week. I was prepared to reclaim my throne.

"Ah, an 83.66%. I was a full 12 points behind you…" This was a way of telling me my grade? Well, it was doing double duty, and I had to give him props for not pointing me out like Near would have.

"What? A 95? That's… that's it?" I was devastated. "What did Near get?"

"Oh, um, a 96."

One point.

One damned point.

One.

Before I knew it, I was searching for Near.

If a show is what they were waiting for, I was angry enough to give them one.

I checked his room. I burst in the School District. I rummaged in the Library and surveyed the Common Room multiple times.

"DAMN!" I kicked a pillar in frustration. Near was pissing me off even when he wasn't here. He even beat me at this twisted hide-and-seek! I scowled in ferocity. My stomach was burning again… I was aflame… again. The hatred and anger barricaded my rational mind, the frustration and envy provoking the animal inside of me. I kicked over anything I could see, threw my chocolate bar to the other side f the room, hard. I heard it shout as it crashed into the wall, its entity shattering. I grit my teeth, the occurrence only making the thunder in my mind, chest, and fists crack louder. I growled, stomping outside in my wake, a few terrified children peering out of the safety of trees or walls. I slammed the door as hard as I could, and I heard a girl from the inside falter, "Oh-h-h …my god…" I practically heard the shudders and the tears as they fell, thinking of the weakness of my inferiors. A few boys, many boys, however, were awed and followed me to witness whatever chaos I was about to conjure up. They were excited to follow me, and encouraged me to no end, giving me a sick pride in the deed I was thinking of doing, saying things like,

"Whoever did Mello wrong is gonna get it for sure!"

"Yeah! Nobody crosses Mello and gets away with it!" Another added enthusiastically. I didn't know what I was even doing outside, until I remembered hearing Linda say,

"_I won't let him! I'll stay with Near!"_

Linda could coax Near out of the house. I know. She'd done it before. And the only place he would go and she would take him is under the big tree by the pond. It was cool and secluded and Near enjoyed the fish. Y'know… as much as Near can really enjoy something. He'd point at the white Rudd, exotic seahorse (how they lived in that pond is beyond me) and the shimmery Grass Carp; the many Dragonets and the small shark, which was my favorite. In his reticent nature, he'd silently touch the water and trace the patterns the fish would swim in. Sometimes, a cat or two would follow him there, as the cats of the orphanage took _real_ pleasure to Near's company, and they would attempt to catch the fish Near was currently tracking. One time, a black cat caught a small clownfish sort of thing, but Near didn't know how to respond when it dropped it in front of him expectantly. He just pet the cat, in his tentative, innocent way, and told it gently to no longer catch fish. It seemed angry or depressed at that and fled in a huff, leaving Near alone under the tree. I'd watched each of these scenes from a distance, maybe under the pretense of playing soccer, or watching from a window in the common room, or sometimes I'd be right there… but unnoticed. Near had started to notice me less and less… and that was some of the most unbearable torture I'd ever experienced.

To think that I thought of him every day, and my gaze never wavered, not even for a moment, as I faded from his thoughts, his memories, and his sight. He was winning and I was losing… badly. This made me stomp even harder as we approached the pond, the boys behind me only background music in my grand scheme.

Near WOULD notice me, no matter what it took, that condescending snob!

And as I suspected, there he was, half asleep under the tree, just sitting there. He'd looked up sleepily upon hearing the small crowd behind me cheering like they were. I slit my eyes at him and approached him, ready for confrontation.

I hadn't forgotten what Near'd done. I hadn't let go of my immense fury. The hatred had taken its toll on me. A sickening, burning feeling ran through my body, a deadly concoction disguised as hate. My mind was reeling, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to win, how Near had stolen everything from me…

His detachedness bore into me like a spear. I wasn't one to lie down and take it. Near would have to beat me kicking and screaming. I'd be dead before I let him win!

"Near," I hissed, spitting whatever poison I could get out.

"Oh, hello… Mello…" He said flatly, voice dripping with exhaustion. He cocked his head at the boys following me, who had kept a steady distance from us, but formed a sort of semi circle to see. Linda was on the outside of them, probably shouting something, but I didn't give a rat's ass.

"Why are you here?" He asked, rubbing his eye with the back of his sleeve.

I was not going to be seduced by Near and his adorable tendencies. Did he think I'd feel sorry for him? Want to kiss him? Try to save him from myself?

Please.

"Kh! Predictable." I jeered. "Always acting stupid when both you and I know you know! Don't be so _humble, _Near!" I continued, advancing. Near tried not to make noticeable moves, but he was backing away from me. I was all riled up now, and uneager to stop.

"Mr. Number One."

I said this with extra venom, hoping that it would seep into his skin as it did mine.

"Mello, I already said to you, I shall not apologize for surpassing you. I know… that you are here about the term papers." He stated, bumping into the trunk of the tree softly, no longer able to back away. I took advantage of this and strode to the tree. "Wow, how did you figure that one out, Einstein?" I sneered.

"Furthermore… I am aware of what you are going to do to me…" He trailed off, looking nervously into the distance, avoiding me at all costs. I pinned my arms on either side of him, bending in, as his eyes grew a little wider and his mouth a little more open.

"Really," I whispered. "Then you will be receptive and we can get this done quick, you freakish little bastard."

I then pushed his head back, smashing him into the tree with an exciting flourish.

The boys started to cheer and chant my name as I punched him in the stomach. I started to feel relieved, as I dug my fists into him. Sad and sickened and overwhelmed, but relieved of my stress and a little rage…

He slit his eyes at me and jabbed me in the throat, ducking when I swang at his head. "Son of a BITCH!" I exclaimed, my eyes growing predatory as I dared him to move.

Not only did he move; he ran. However, little Near tripped on his own pant leg, directly in front of the pond.

Overcome with the thirst for vengeance, hatred and frustration, my face twisted evilly as I started to strangle him, pulling him up by the collar.

"You little bastard! I HATE YOU!" I yelled in his face with as much soul-crushing venom as I could. He struggled, pulling my hair, and I spat in his face. He kicked me, and I bit him. We wrestled this way until I attempted to shove him off of me in my fit of rage and humiliation, to supply the crowd with the violence they needed.

Near fell back all right, and pulled me with him. Right into the pond.

"Au… Mmph!"

We crashed into the pond, my hands clasped around Near's scrawny little neck. He flailed a bit, but it was utterly hopeless. The dense, yet clean blue water made it impossible to see properly. But however, there seemed to be something else causing Near to sink. I let go of his neck and returned to the surface in search of air.

Why wasn't he coming back up?

My brow furrowed in worry and I unknowingly started to blush. Throwing off my shoes, socks and my expensive crucifix, I took a deep breath and rolled back into the water.

Plunging my way down, searching, I tried to remember what it was that made Near so vulnerable to water…

I…

I…think…

'RGGGH.' I thought. 'Come ON, Mello! What's the problem with Near!' I broke the surface again, partly breathing rapidly from frustration.

I … remember… I don't think Near can swim.

Near can't swim.

…

NEAR CAN'T SWIM!

Shit.

SHIT!

My eyes grew wide as I swam rapidly towards any direction I could go, searching frantically for a ghostly little body on the rocky floor.

'Near… where are you?' I thought, the panic making me unable to breathe, the water making me unable to cry. I paddled around just a bit, passing by much too happy Rainbowfish when I saw him, floating mid-water, passed out.

'Oh shit, Near!' I thought. 'Holy fuck!'

I swam as fast as I could, grabbing him tightly to my chest in one arm, only able to think, 'He's drowning, Near is drowning!'

I heard a faint ringing in my ears and my vision blurred as I started to lose air and consciousness. I had to fight; I had to pull through! It wouldn't win… no…

"Haaah…!" I gasped for breath throwing Near onto the banks of the pond, coughing and spitting up water. "N-near.." I stammered, the crowd gone in shock, most likely. I pet his hair back as the water flew out of my open mouth. He was so beautiful and cold…

I propped his little mouth open as quickly as possible, thinking that every second counted. I linked my hands behind his head and pressed my lips to his, breathing hard into his mouth. When I let go and his lungs responded, I pushed his stomach a little. Water dribbled out of his open mouth, and I quickly locked our lips together again, trying not to feel the sparks in my veins, trying not to notice the real antidote to the poison I was afflicted with…

It was so confusing… I'd tried to kill Near earlier, hated him, and now I was saving his life, and couldn't care more about him.

He coughed up more water and regained consciousness after a good three sessions. My tears overflowed in excitement and relief, as I pet his hair and kept my face close to him, wanting to smell him, see him, feel him. "M…mello…" He mumbled between coughs, my tears doing no justice to his sopping wet pajamas. It was moments before a boy I recognized ran up with a paramedic. She was appalled at the sight of us, two soaking wet boys, one barely conscious and hacking up water and one sobbing and bent over the other in a lover's embrace.

It's blurry, what happened next, as Near was taken one direction and I another, my protests of leaving his side widely ignored. When I found myself sitting in a conference room, a towel draped over my shoulders, the boy and Linda all standing in front of me with a scolding, disappointed look on their faces, I was pissed. I didn't have time to deal with this! Near was… Near had… I…

"The Hell? Do you know what happened to Near! I have to be there! I have to save him! Please, let me go! Let… me go… Lemme go…" I was losing it, my anger, remorse, and anxiety spilling out all over the floor in the form of sobs, chokes and tears.

I sobbed, and the older boy shook his head. He looked to be about fifteen or so, with brown hair and creepy golden eyes. He was one of the top ten, I think, but I didn't care. I was dripping wet and I had no idea where Near was and I was crestfallen with what had happened. I couldn't take much more.

"Mello. What you have done today endangered someone's life." He scolded.

"I know, but…!"

"Sh."

My pupils dilated in surprise, and I stopped choking on my own pathetic wails to stare at him. No child had told me to be quiet before…

"Mello, you acted beyond reasonable judgment today and you know that could have killed Near." I tried to refrain from making any loud sobbing noises, but a sneaky whimper escaped my lips.

"Mello, we can't let you go see Near." My eyes widened in disbelief before engulfing in rage.

"THE HELL I WON'T! Near is MINE! You can't take him away from me, he needs me!" I screamed in protest.

"No, Mello, quite the contrary. I think you may be a little obsessed with him." The boy stated quite clearly. I was irate at this statement. "However, we won't tell Roger if you promise not to hurt him like that again. I'm sure it would be detrimental to you as well. L wouldn't want a violent successor, I don't think."

I quickly calmed at this, becoming nervous at the mention of his name. My idol...

L didn't care about us that much, I thought. Why would he think that I was a bad successor for acting this way towards Near? It's not like he knew me or Near or our relationship. I thought that I didn't even like him, let alone love him, or obsess over him… The only thing I wanted from Near was his place as number one.

But then why did I save him?

The two sighed. "You will not go around Near until Near shows signs of wanting you around," The boy further projected his terms, before being interrupted.

"Which I doubt he will! Selfish pig!" Linda spat, evilly.

"Rude little bitch, you shut the fuck up! You don't know anything about Near!" I fumed. I was ready to bash her head into a window, shove the glass into her scalp and throw her out of the broken pane, three stories down, preferably, to her rocky death so she could rot in hell for all eternity. She had no right to talk about Near that way! She didn't know him, that scrawny bitch! I bared my teeth at her, trying to show her my prevalent hatred for her at this point.

"MELLO. LINDA." The older boy asserted, and she retreated, her eyes still slit icily. I sucked my top row of teeth with my tongue, closing my mouth but continuing to glare at her, hoping that a thousand knives would penetrate her skin on demand. Hoping she'd hear every profane word I spewed in my head directly to her, and wince in pain.

"Anyway, if you don't abide, we will tell Roger."

"WHAT?"

"And your privilege to consume chocolate whenever you please will be revoked. You now have to give us each one bar a week. And I get to pick the kind, and almonds may be included. This is actually pretty lenient, Mello. You have done a terrible thing. Your luxuries may be given back to you in 6 months or one year, depending on whether you attack Near again." The boy said confidently, while in comparison, my pride was shattering; my emotional state dismantling.

"And if you do, Mello, I'll tell Roger and you will never see Near again. Are we clear?" Linda scalded, her false authority over me and her malevolent words shredding my spirit.

"WHAT? NEVER?" I sputtered in disbelief, saltine tears burning against my eyelids again. "You know those rules are despicable and unfair!"

"Yeah, but it has to be done. For Near." I nodded, dejectedly, embarrassed and alone.

"He's in Room 17. You are only permitted for today, so make it count, Mello." He marched out, Linda behind him. But before she left, that witch had the audacity to turn around and eye me like a piece of trash in her lawn.

"Asshole." Linda hissed.

"Get out of here, you ugly twisted bitch. Near will never ever love you." I stated. On a bout of anger, I didn't think before I taunted, "And just so you know, _I kissed him,_" I grinned twistedly as I said this, the venom dribbling from my mouth. Her eyes expanded so much I thought her head would explode. It was so satisfying to see this bitch so traumatized. Tears started to pour out of her saucer-like eyes, and she never blinked once as she whispered a pained, "Wh-what?"

"And if you tell anyone, I'll cut the nose off of your face and shove it up your vagina," I growled.

"Mello, you!" She screamed. I swear, I wanted to punch her so badly; it overcame me like a lust. But I let her run, knowing she'd be tortured with pictures of me tonguing Near at night with no one to vent to in her pathetic depression.

With that amazing thought in mind, I made my way to the Hospital Ward, the excruciating need to see Near starting to cloud all other senses. I sauntered down the white hallways of the hospital ward, not keen about the smell of medication, syrups and blood invading my nose. When I reached Room 17, I forgot about how angry I was at Near or Linda or Roger, Near's safety becoming only thing I wanted to know. 'Near.' I thought, beginning to drool as the thought of his soft hair, his thin lithe body, those eyes, that taste… I was getting a hard-on thinking about tonguing the blood off of his face where I hit him in the nose, biting all the places I had and some new, more sensual places I hadn't… If only Linda was thinking of this…

I needed him now. If I couldn't have had him, I think I would have died.

But once I entered, Near knew.

"Mello?" He called raspily, his voice dripping with hope. I couldn't surpress a sweet smile as I walked over to his bedside.

"How are you, Near?" I asked, pushing his bangs back with my hand.

"A..alright…" He said, his eyes lowering at my touch. I grinned, but looked away from him towards the windows.

"Good." A silence followed, but it didn't last very long.

"Mello…" Near said softly, tugging my sleeve gently to get me to look down at him. His cheeks were flushed. "Thank you for saving me. I will be sure to explain this to Roger and tell him that I… do not hold anything against you." He proceeded to gently curl his fingers around the sleeve, being cute on purpose again, and I…

I wouldn't lose this competition!

If Near wanted to play that way, so be it. I would follow suit.

I smashed my lips into his, the attraction unbearable. At first he was surprised at the engagement. His lips were wet and sensual, eventually pressing back into mine shyly. I licked his mouth, barely parted, and he opened just enough to let me in. God, this already made me hot. I couldn't stand being on the floor next to him anymore, and I climbed into the bed, straddling him, our bodies detrimentally close. He moaned as I stroked the top of his mouth with my tongue, and pinned his hands above his head. He panted when we parted, flustered and warm like I was.

'So, Near can feel,' I mused in interest. I wanted to see just how much that tiny little body would submit, what emotions that cute face would reveal to me.

But I couldn't do that. Not here, at least. So I offered a proposition.

"Did you… like that, Near?" I sighed, pleasure unmasked.

"…I… mm.." He moaned in discomfort, trying to avoid my question. He was embarrassed I made him feel this way, that he'd shown me this soft, soluble side to him.

"Same cold Near," I mumbled, close to his ear, kissing the area. He shuddered in response, and I knew I had to take him further.

"Near, I will… do more of this, if you like it. But," I whispered against his earlobe, flicking my tongue against it. "We have to get out of this damned hospital."

… Slowly but surely, Near nodded, twice, eyes shut tightly, quivering in my arms.

"Shh," I comforted, wrapping my arms around him. "It's okay. I'll take you away from here, and we can be together…"

* * *

And that's how we ended up here, mere feet from my room, people searching for us.

However, I was insatiable by this time, and I only wanted one thing. Upon hearing footsteps retreat, I took my chance. Holding Near's hand, I bounded down the final corner of the B hall left to the short walkway to A. "Almost there, baby," I cooed rubbing his hand gently with my fingers. Recognizing the distinct look of the red doors of hall A and the names on the whiteboard beside the door, I pulled Near down the solar-powered hallway, which was becoming dim and gray as dark, storm clouds began to cover the sky, to the section of the compound separate from the others. "Finally… one sweet one…" I sighed, as I rushed to my room. I quickly threw open the door, and after surveying the room and the hallway, I shut it quietly and locked it, confident no one knew of our whereabouts. Near had drifted to my full sized bed, papers strewn across it, and laid on top of my crimson comforter, burying his head in it as if it were his long-lost mother. A small roar of thunder growled outside my window, and I opened the curtain. Near shuddered and tried to envelope himself in my blanket. I wondered what caused this odd behavior until the lightning cracked.

* * *

_à suivre..._

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Hey guys. Sorry, been a bit since I made a new chapter, but I had writer's block. I have tons of good ideas now, so I'll do my best. Thanks to everyone who listens to my beautiful singing voice and reviews my story! I love you more. _

_Anyhow, I was going to make it more graphic and eventful, but__… No excuses! I suck! Also, the kid that scolds Mello is the one that turns him in. He really has no significance in the story, he's just a good Samaritan. So, yeah. Don't get mad, he's not an OC or anything._

_Ah in other news, I can almost finish the Shinjo Yukino—Garasu, from : Poisoned on piano. It's the song that plays whenever Near is in the room, or Mello is in Near's room. I always thought it was painstakingly beautiful, so I played by ear. And I think I've done a pretty bitchin' job. _

_So, on that note, I'm gonna lead you out. X's and O's like a real pirate would._

_Reviews are Beautiful_

_In every single way_

_Yes, words that you write down_

_Oh oh yeah_

_Reviews are beautiful_

_No matter what you say_

_Responses to stories I write _

_Oh oh no [?] _

_So won't you write one down_

_Today?_

_~Sam_


	11. Beautiful Nightmares

**A/N: I APOLOGIZE DEEPLY FOR THE UPDATE LAPSE. Don't hate me, it wasn't my fault! I was grounded from my computer for being a moron and getting a D in Algebra. So for three weeks I sat in my room and watched Fashion Police. I'm back now, so please forgive me! Enjoy!**

* * *

_ "Ma fleur irr__emplaçable… M'obsede…"_

**Forevermore-** _Chapitre Dix/_Ten

Mello

That face…

Pure fear. I knew it.

I'd seen it in the mirror far too many times… far too many…

I… had done this. Near wasn't…enjoying it at all was he…?

I regretted everything I'd done that day, but this, by far, was the worst. Why couldn't I have just let him be safe? Why didn't I just leave him in the ward? Why was I so impulsive? A deep despair cracked my heart into two as I felt my body numb. I was disgusted with myself…

"I'm so sorry…I scared you, didn't I?"

This wasn't even a question to me anymore. Seeing his face… was answer enough. Was I really any better than the men who hadn't been able to control themselves in my childhood by my actions? I had just put myself in a place I swore I'd never be… I was so worthless. There was nothing I couldn't have fucked up at that point…

"I'm sorry for forcing you here, Near… I am so sorry…." I couldn't help it. I started to cry. My mind lulled into a sleepy, frozen state, where I couldn't think to even breathe as I silently cried, my tears blending with the rain…

Why was I such a fuck-up….?

No wonder…

My parents didn't want me…

Suddenly, I felt a soft tug at my sleeve.

Near had crawled to my side, softly and shyly waiting for permission to come closer. Surprised, I declined.

"Near… don't be so quick to forgive me…"

But as the thunder roared outside, I found myself knocked to the wall by a white figure, shaking and tensing itself in pure fright. He attempted to curl into a ball on my chest, as my arms were plastered at my sides, no way to fight of the tears that continued to cascade down my face. Flashes of light illuminated the room as I sat on the bed with that shuddering little ball of person shoving himself into me so fervently, I could barely breathe. Not that the crying that I was doing was helping my cause much, but…

"Near… what are you so afraid of?"

Pause.

I moved my unused, creaky arms to drape the blanket that slightly covered my ankles on him, wrapping my arms around his body, holding him closer to me while ignoring the blush that flooded my cheeks. I buried my head in his hair, when he finally whispered,

"The storms… have scared me ever since."

"You… were not much help, no… I was… frightened and confused… but that is something I am able to… …"

The thunder rolled again, quietly, like it was stalking its prey. Near tensed again and was quick to shut up; burying his head in the crook of my shoulder.

There really was nothing for me to lose at this point.

I whispered lightly in his ear, "I had nightmares for the longest time, you know."

His shoulders softened a little, his head laid lightly on me. I stroked his back, pulling the red and gold comforter up a little on us.

"Yeah, hard to believe, huh?" I mused, throat thick with angst. My body felt hollow and inhuman as I rattled out my innermost fears and most lethargic, haunting memories.

"I saw my mom once. One time in my whole life before my dad died, and she was so drunk she couldn't walk through the door. My father yelled at her, and she screamed back millions of profane words I could have never known as she advanced, you know, however advancing that stumbling two steps, holding on to the wall and falling flat on your face maneuver could possibly be, to the freezer where she took out bottles and bottles of something my dad told me was water… Though I knew he had lied to me because water freezes. He had made me drink this foul liquid many times before and only now I have the gall to label it as vodka…" I had to swallow the metal ball in my throat before continuing, the tears burning at my unusable, blue eyes. I blinked but it didn't make my sight any better. I didn't want to open this door in which I knew there was only horror. I didn't want to feel the dust and bones of the skeletons of my memories thrust unwelcomingly on my skin. But Near needed to see this. To see this side of me which I despised.

"My father beat me senseless that night… when it was over… I was bleeding so badly from my nose and mouth, I felt like I couldn't breathe through the blood flow… and the saddest part is that I was just grateful that he hadn't tried to shove his dick up my ass again… because … that was … the… worst…" I closed my eyes tightly for a second, but I couldn't feel these emotions anymore. It was like I was telling a story about someone else. On the outside looking in, I felt like a bad actor unable to fit into a role, just lost in a world I didn't belong… Revisting this memory was a bad idea. Just getting the words out of my mouth was an eternal struggle.

"…I… couldn't even look at myself in the mirror. I thought… everything about me… was wrong…"

…

I became translucent, no longer here, no longer there. Stranded, waiting, insanity asking for my hand… It disappoints me the most, looking back, that this was a condition I found myself in all too many times, where I was only thinking of me and no one else.

"Nothing about you is wrong, Mello." He said defiantly. He was still incredibly tense, but I couldn't avoid that uncharacteristic confidence.

I know this side of Near… When he knows and has his complete faith entrusted in one fact, his determination and confidence is frightening.

I watched him answer questions with electrifying expedience and assurance that the teacher's faces were unreadable as they muttered a faint-hearted, appalled, "That's correct."

I didn't have enough willpower to resist believing him.

He stared at me with those uncompassionate, obsidian eyes, but I couldn't miss the faintest hint of tenderness in him… He was telling me that he couldn't feel for me, because he did not understand, but what he had heard he knew he shared intimately with me; that he could comprehend.

"I'm terrified of thunderstorms. My parents were incinerated in a house fire caused by an electrical discharge from the lightning on that night… Though rain was falling, it failed to extinguish the fire in even the smallest means… I only remember watching the lightning flash in the distance, wondering if other children were shocked and scared as a fire obliterated everything they knew, and the only reason I can remember this is because it revisits me every time there is a storm… and I can only hope that those inane sporadic bursts don't kill me too." He stated all of this without a minute of emotion, a stutter or a choke. I couldn't imagine he would either, considering this happened when he was so small, so long ago.

"I couldn't imagine you would Near, but… do you miss them?" I asked distantly, only focused on the sound of my voice through the rain that gently threw itself on my large, offset window.

"… No." He said bluntly, now sitting upright in my lap, as the thunder had ceased. I couldn't help laying my head on top of his, though he didn't move, seemingly oblivious to even being in my presence. I sighed into his hair… Sometimes he was hopelessly impossible.

"I barely even knew them." He stated opaquely, his eyes, traveling up like he had just noticed me laying on him… But the fact that he was showing that he had noticed was embarrassing me. I had to guess that he was annoyed that I was resting there because such attention I didn't really receive from a small action like this. I moved my head reluctantly, but he tugged on my sleeve, cheeks dusted faintly pink. He didn't dare look into my eyes, out of embarrassment, but I could feel his reluctance to part with me. I couldn't suppress a smile, as I replaced my head on his, my own face growing heated with some concoction of embarrassment and giddiness.

"What of you?" Near prodded monotonously, but I could tell that every word that came out of his mouth was carefully chosen out of fear. Fear of embarrassment, which I think, pleasured me the most.

"What do you mean?" I asked, attempting to annoy him a little. I wanted to know if he'd be cute a little uninhibited.

"I couldn't imagine you would, but… do you miss them?" He repeated my words with such gloss I was practically dumbfounded.

If he were mocking me, which was quite unlikely, I'd play along. Snark was something I excelled at.

I closed my eyes, the smile settling on my face as I muttered in resentment, "I don't miss them at all."

He nodded a little, afraid to disturb me. I buried my ever-present grin into his hair, which disturbingly smelled like fresh linen. We sat there for a while, cynical to the world, listening to the wind toss raindrops at my window. Near took the liberty of rolling away from me to lay down on the bed, much to my despair. I laid down, unable to keep myself from nervously staring at him, unable to speak or to touch him out of fear he wouldn't respond or, even worse, dislike it like before.

"Don't be scared to touch me, Mello. I trust you…" Near whispered, sleepily, eyes only half open. This made me blush fervently, as I crawled closer to him. My face was burning and my stomach was throwing itself all over the place, twisting and cavorting in pain. My heart was attempting to break out of its cavity as I laid closer to him. His sweet pink blush started to sprawl itself on his face as well. It took all the nerve I had to drape an arm around his waist and pull him a little closer to me, his body curled into a warming white ball, and my body was taking a terrible toll from it. I felt like I was using liquor for the first time, a deep burn settling in the pit of my stomach, but an ache in my heart and a high so pleasant, I was practically voracious to get closer, to have more. It was killing me that in order to keep him safe, and keep him close, I had to be subtle.

I wasn't adapted to being gentle and slow, but I guess that was something I had to incorporate into my actions regarding Near. It seemed everything about me had to change for him! I became angry for a split second, staring at the white wall on the other side of Near's head, but I couldn't stay that way when Near's head touched my chest gently, like it was barely there. My eyes widened a little, and my heart started darting about again. I barely even felt him, so gentle, like a ghost, and I felt him slide into me through my breaths and my veins. Even my fingertips started to ache with nervousness. It was killing me slowly, but I wouldn't have died any other way. I was unable of lulling into sleep with his body so close no matter how many times I closed my eyes, so I just rolled over onto my back, trying to forget he was anywhere near me. But, of course the damn 'ho couldn't stay on his fuckin' side of the bed and scooted up to lay almost directly on top of half of my body. How that was comfortable for him still remains questionable, but I was fucking losing it with him there. My arms hurt from being so close… So close but unable to touch, unable to do anything but lay there at the complete manipulation of Near… I sat there, holding my breath, only able to feel the surreality of this situation pulsate through my brain, saying "this is so wrong, so wrong…" I couldn't keep my flames undercontrol, neither could I keep my body quiet. "Why am I so ineptly attracted to Near, damn it!" I screamed in my head several times over, wishing that my unattractive, scrawny albino counterpart would roll back over to his side of the bed.

I tried to fight my feelings by insulting Near, but I couldn't. I couldn't ignore that he was painstakingly adorable, that he was so close and that I had a gigantic crush on him.

Wait, that last part didn't mean to come out! Of course I don't, err DIDN'T have a crush on him! Come on, really? Not a chance.

But, somehow, even in this state, I fell asleep, my hand curled in his hair lovingly. To this day, I still think that somehow, it was peaceful, that incredible inability to catch my breath when Near laid in my arms, that unthinkable hollowness yet immortal feeling that I was so addicted to. I adored and despised the sting that I felt race through my veins when he was around me, when I thought of him, just as I hated and loved the being himself.

I sighed with contentment and frustration the next morning, as a gently breathing Near was cuddled into my side, but frankly, I didn't want to deal with myself that day.

All I wanted to do, really, was lay in bed with Near all day, breathing in his scent, touching his baby soft skin, seeing that adorable look on his face when I touched him…

I…

I really love him.

Don't I.

…

Well, fuck.

* * *

It became that every night it stormed, Near would indefinitely creep into my room and curl up next to me as I told him gruesome, sad, and colorful stories from my childhood that he listened to with an adorable intrigue, asking a question every now and then. He'd always fall asleep curled up against me, because, as he put it, "This is the way I feel safest."

I loved it. The way he was shoved up against me, so I could protectively hold him, warding off all of his fears.

Soon enough, it became whenever it was just raining, and eventually he would come in whenever he wanted to, when I wasn't expecting it, and crawl into bed with me, not bothering to ask for permission to come in or come close, knowing he didn't need it.

We always had the fear of someone finding us and turning us into Roger, but I really didn't care when Near was with me. I was happy, and I would be whatever the hell Roger had to say about it. It's not like I kissed him, even though I desperately wanted to. It's not like I touched him or licked him, even though it was tempting to think about.

But I was tired of being subtle. However, it wasn't my decision to make whether or not we kissed. Or touched. It was all Near, the manipulating bastard.

And it was just another reason of the many that I hated him.

* * *

_à suivre..._

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_I know! It's a disappointment. Short and unattached, but I'm just getting back in the game. Give me a grace period. It's not my fault I'm a fucking moron who can't divide fractional exponents._

_Anyhow._

_Uh. Shit. Hi._

_How's your day been? I've been writing nonstop. So there's a tidbit for ya. Bout to get half of my teeth yanked out because they are all baby teeth and I am, as the dentist so eloquently put it, 'way too old to still have baby teeth.'_

_I'm gonna go eat some ice-cream and then puke it out. I have to keep up this model figure. AHAHAHA._

_1 2 3 4_

_5 6 7 reviews_

_8 9_

_(Let's make a new record)_

_C'mon just let me get to ten_

_Oh boy_

_[It's 10 seconds by Jazmine Sullivan. Beautiful song.]_

_Ever so sincerely, the belated bitch-is-back,_

_~Sam_


	12. Humidity

**Forevermore- **_Chapitre Onze/_Eleven

Mihaelia Jackeehl – erm, yeah, that one isn't good at all

It was a cloudy, sweltering, overly humid summer day and the lot of us were indoors because the air was far too moist outside to play ball without our legs sticking together. Fans were blowing in the stuffy Wammy's household, windows open and children taking off whatever they could to perspire less. I was even dying to pin up my hair or something, even though I sat in my room with nothing but a pair of boxers on, a small fan blowing into my face. Matt was playing his new Nintendo 64, successfully dominating at Lorenzo Go Kart: International Speedway, and I knew it because I could hear him yell with glee at the television each time he conquered a racecourse in first place.

I had known his status in this Grand Prix since he started it with comments emitting from the other side of the room such as, "Landslide win! Hell yeah! Eat it, Bloom!" and, "OH MY GOD! DID YOU SEE THAT? I was in first this WHOLE RACE and that BITCH _Apple_ spiny-shelled me and I came in FUCKING EIGHTH! What the HELL!"

These are true accounts of things that came out of his mouth. I swear on my grandmother's grave. I peeked at the screen a couple of times, just to see what caused such swears, and I got so engrossed in the game at one point that even I groaned when an orange-backed turtle threw a green shell at my friend's kart and sent it spinning into oblivion on the Suriname Speedway. He jumped up and swore at the screen, playing with vigorous anger, determined to exact revenge and win the cup.

He ignored the fact that his palms were sweating and fingers slipping, as he gripped tightly onto the controller mumbling, "Just one more lap, just one more lap, come on, work with me…"

His brows were furrowed in silent and frustrated excitement, and I turned my attention back to the screen. The blue clad man he controlled was in second place, almost directly behind the orange turtle, with one boost left. I could tell he was waiting until they were in front of the finish line, so the turtle didn't have a chance of catching up with the mustached blue crusader. My prediction proved right as he forced the L button down with unneeded emphasis and powered past the finish line winning by a hair. We both cheered in relief and excitement as his character received the prize of 12 points, making him the winner of the championship by 2 measly points.

His character started to take the victory lap as I said, "Damn, dude, for a little bit, I thought there was no way in hell you'd make it."

He chuckled and replied breathily, "Yeah, I feel really awesome when I win a game. Dude, I was sure that bitch was gonna throw another turtle shell at me. God knows what that woulda done."

He grinned and pressed the remaining buttons to set up another race. I turned back a little hesitantly towards the window, fanning my face again. I was only in this position for a couple minutes when I felt a pair of eyes staring at my back. For a bit, I inferred paranoia, but when I could seriously feel those brown assholes boring into my back, I whipped around and sure enough, Matt was staring at me, this whiny look on his face.

"Hey Mello, aren't you gonna come play with me?" He pleaded from the other side of the room, my back to him as I looked out of the window lazily.

"Nah… I'm fine over here." But in truth, I was waiting for Near.

I'd seen him come out of the russet-stoned building earlier, seeming to search for something. It was increasingly strange since Near never went outside, so I was just… sitting there, hoping to see him again. He looked as if what he was looking for was pretty important, so he'd be back… I just had to wait until he was. Then I could drop things on his head. I chuckled at this thought, thinking how I'd duck or pull the shades shut when he looked up, wondering who had the audacity to throw something at him from their window. Hehehe, it would be pretty awesome to see his face if it was something of his, too. Would he be angry at me?

It wouldn't matter anyway, we're rivals. I condone – even encourage – his anger towards me. The problem with this is that he refuses to show any emotion towards me at all. He's like a brick that moves… so silent and cold… He didn't even function like a normal human being. When he'd come out earlier he'd had his usual, white long-sleeved pajamas on, not a bead of sweat on his face. He rustled his hair once with his hand, but I don't believe it was because it was 98 degrees outside. I sighed, playing with my necklace. What the hell was his problem anyway?

Time passed as I stared at the birds fly past, humming softly and sighing. Matt cheered from the background, a synthetic, victorious jingle musing with him. What was compelling me to sit here and wait for him?

Finally, it was about ten whole minutes after I spoke to Matt when the little bastard emerged from the building. A painful cramp enveloped something in my ribcage and I furrowed my brow in frustration. I touched it lightly, feeling a deep, unwanted blush fill my face. Damn my anticipation to humiliate him!This could only get worse, I thought, looking at him again, my blood going much faster than the normal rate. He looked slightly frazzled this time, and I knew it was my turn to hurt him. I smiled sinfully, dangling my cross over the windowsill as he walked through the grassy marsh directly under my view. I swung the dainty chain in a circle, but I guess I lost my balance or something and it slipped right off my finger and landed right on the albino's head. He winced a little as it bounced off his head and I watched in complete shock. He grabbed the golden cross and tilted his head at it, looking up expectantly.

What?

You think I was sitting there, embarrassed and shit when he looked up?

You underestimate me. I had ducked by this time, even taking great care to hide the fan in the windowsill, although I probably could have pushed that shit directly onto his head. I wasn't going to be embarrassed like that. I could feel his awkwardness when he looked up like that, not seeing anyone. It made me laugh a little to think of it. "Mello, what the…"

"Shhh, Matt. Be quiet, don't let him know I did it." I whispered, eyes scintillating.

"He?" Matt raised an eyebrow.

"Near, dammit!"

"Oh, I see…" He pretended to zip his lips and muted the game.

I peered over the windowsill again, hands sweaty from the humidity. He was still staring up; a mischievous smile donned on his face. I retreated quickly, hoping he didn't see me. I held my breath.

Did he see me?

"Mello, I know it was you. Your name is engraved in the back of your crucifix." Shit. I'd totally forgotten that. Not that I'd lost the cross on purpose…

"What puzzles me is the fact that you dropped one of your most prized possessions on me rather than the fan that was blowing in your window. That would have certainly had better results…" He stated, tinkering with the chain as he spoke. I extracted myself from behind the windowsill, an annoyed look on my face, trying to ignore the obvious blush due to embarrassment.

"I didn't drop that on purpose, you albino dickwad!"

"Oh." He replied curtly. "So I suppose that it just happened to slip out of your hands the exact minute I appeared under your ledge. That is a pliable clause for sure."

"Shut it with the impertinent phrases. I get how it seems like a fault, but it was an accident. I don't lie." I asserted. He blinked at me, blank-faced and linked the chain around his neck.

"HEY! What gives, Near, I told you it was a motherfucking accident!" I cried, upset. "Oh, yes I understood and accepted that this accidentally fell. However, that will not stop me from demanding that if you want it back…" He grinned slyly, "You are going to have to come and get it." He curled the pendant in his finger a little.

I gritted my teeth, responding, "Yeah, hell no. What makes you think you can just take that by the way, Near?"

He peeked back up at me, the smile unlacing as he vexed, "It is in my possession now, Mello. Too bad, hm."

"Look, maybe we can work out a deal." I muttered in frustration.

"Mello… is capable of making deals?" He retorted sarcastically.

"Near, do you want your hair dyed red?"

"Wha…"

"Shut up. Whatever you were looking for… I could … _help_ search for it, I guess," I practically gagged these words out, "but in return you have to give me my crucifix back and…"

"And…?" He tilted his head in question.

"I want you to do a special favor for me."

"All right, what is it?" His hand flew to his hair, curling a small twisp in his nimble fingers. And no, I was not noticing his fingers were nimble, it just came to mind… You know what, never mind, I shouldn't and don't have to justify myself.

"… You'll know when I ask you to do it." I smirked, folding my arms proudly. Where I was going with this remained to be seen, but I liked toying with Near like he had so unnoticeably done with me.

"That is fine. I accept your terms." He said, blinking at me.

"Sweet," I replied, climbing onto the windowsill. "Be right back Matt."

"Don't fucking JUMP!" He cried, but I already lunged from the second story window onto the ground. I landed gracefully on my feet, crouched hand to the floor. I flipped my hair back, tongue sticking out, as I laughed at Near's astonished, somewhat frightened face.  
"Betcha can't do that, can ya, Near?" I bragged, running my fingers through my hair again. He simply smiled lightly at me and started to fumble with the necklace again. W..what was that…?

I blushed, and I know, I could feel the heat travel through my body like wildfire, consuming all my oxygen, all my water, making my veins sting with unpurified blood. What the hell was this crazy voodoo? And why…

Why was I tricked into thinking that…

It felt…

Good?

"DUDE, YOU FORGOT YOUR FUCKING PANTS!" The voice of Matt called from my room, flinging itself down a story so the whole yard could hear. Thankfully, we were the only people there, but I wasn't the only person with a window open. Hopefully no one had heard him…

"TOSS ME DOWN A FUCKING SWIMSUIT OR SOMETHING, DIPSHIT, I'M NOT WEARING PANTS WHEN IT'S HOT AS HELL OUT HERE!" I cajoled, my eyes darting around to see if anyone was looking. Not only was I in my underwear, I would be seen in my underwear in the company of Near. The thought was unbearable. A large blue pair of shorts floated down from my room. I caught these, slid them on and thanked the supplier. I then took the pleasure of asking Near what he was looking for.

"A-ah… s-something important, you can be assured," he murmured. Just look for something that doesn't belong? I supposed that would be easy enough. I treaded through the murky air and damp terrain with him, drenched dirt squishing unwelcomingly between my toes. With a strange expertise, Near darted around the mud, attempting to leave his socks dry and untouched. He held his ground once we reached the pond, a small black cat curling around his leg. I raised an eyebrow at the kitten, who seemed to frown undesirably at me.

"Hm," I mumbled, following my rival to the spot where he believed to have lost his item.

I rummaged around in the mud; unsure of what my goal with this was at all. We'd been searching for a while and I was about to suggest he'd misplaced it elsewhere, preferably inside, when I came across a glossy piece of paper. Photo paper? I'd thought we were looking for an object, but I guess I had to be open to anything… I ran my fingers over it, removing the debris and flipped it over to rub off the actual photograph with my arm. I finally looked at the picture, which appeared to be a photograph of…

Me?

Wh…wha..?

My face distorted a little in discomfort. I knew that this photograph of me _was not dropped by me_, and the chance seemed very slim that it was the object Near was so desperately searching for… To know that someone, that I had a good chance of not knowing, had a picture of me in their pocket or something and had lost it right by the pond Linda took Near in order to complete her paintings in the most endearingly stalker-like manner was very disturbing.

It had to be from a few years ago, right about the time the whole L conference thing was unfolding.

Or maybe the time I started saving Near's chocolate milk…

One day, I was doing a study to see how early I would need to rise to awaken before Near. I'd been documenting the times he got up, and would wake accordingly. I wanted the advantage of time, especially when it came to getting certain books from the library. I wanted to have the head start. I'd use _every _possible strategy to get ahead and win. No matter how long it took.

This particular day, I'd risen far too early for my liking, around 3:00 in the morning. I'd walked around a bit, unable to sleep, really, when I saw Near emerge from his room as well. Flustered at the possibility of being found, I ducked behind a wall to watch him advance towards the dome. He appeared almost opaque, yet translucent. He drifted with the grace of a ghost, the moonlight tracing his every curvature, whispering as it flowed on his skin and clothes, shimmering, rising and falling. He seemed unreal, perfect, compelling me to watch his every move.

Was it just my imagination?

I followed him, as he slugged into the kitchen, a listless hand flittering towards his hair. Near, so pale and so aridly moving in the shadows… It was hard to tell if he wasn't just a figment of my own creation, lonely and sullen, the apparition that haunted me and only me. I scowled just thinking of Near's power over my mind. I couldn't control myself, looking at him. He enticed me, strung a line and tugged me along, unknowingly but much too effectively. He yawned and rubbed his eye as he got in the fridge, and removing a carton of milk with an undrinkable amount in it. He made a distraught, disappointed face, washed out the carton and threw it into the recycle bin. Then the boy journeyed back to his room, slugging unhappily, and I followed him, watching with a vigorous, inhuman fascination. He was loudly shuffling through the halls, but I stalked silently, with the instincts of a cat. I reminded myself sometimes of Near's constant companion, that black cat that seemed to search endlessly for him, and never leave when he found him. For me, it seemed exactly the opposite. I frowned and blinked hard, as I continued to chase him, his sleepy stumbling somehow missing me entirely. He slumped into his room, and I reunited myself with mine, sitting on my bed for a good hour thinking deeply.

It wasn't hard for me to get the other kids to save the milk for him. I told them that it was for me, even though chocolate milk was hardly a branch of cacao drinks that I enjoyed. They steered clear then, and I'd observe Near drink it at distance, sometimes straight from the carton, somewhat feeling like his guardian or something… he didn't see me do it, but I was watching over him.

Endlessly…

And it just made me hate him more.

But this whole story is completely beside the point.

This picture of me, from such a long time ago…

I could do two things with this photo. Address Near about it, even though this wasn't the item he was searching so frantically for, or shove it in my pocket and pretend it was nothing.

Why I chose the former eludes me today.

"Near, look at this," I commanded of him, communicating that I was not enjoying this task whatsoever. He complacently turned towards me, and I held up the photograph uninterestedly. His expression became naïve and surprised; quite hard not to notice. He diverted his eyes from me, a small frown and a faint blush replacing his former placidity.

"Near, if this is yours, I think I might kill you." My words were jagged and threatening, but I was confused and worried at the same time. He shook his head curtly, and I must say, I was… a little disappointed that it wasn't his.

For the reason that it might be… Linda's… ugh.

"But I will take that from you, as you probably… urm, do not wish to have such an unnecessary object in …your possession," He seemed to have choked these words out, his face turned almost completely away from me. He reached out for the photo, but something about him and his behavior forced me to grip it and keep it from him.

"Mm, I don't think so," I replied hastily, "The last thing I want is a little freaky bastard like you keeping a picture of me in his pocket."

Near's eyes shifted towards me, scalding mine underneath their gaze.

"Is that so," he seemingly criticized. I narrowed my eyes at him, but he was far faster than I imagined, as he tore the picture out of my hands and returned to his spot adjacent to me. I was quick to follow his lead, driven to defeat him at this child's game of keep-away, stealing it back from him, and locking a deathly grip on the picture. He started to pull in vain, for both of us knew that Near was weaker than I was by a long shot. I felt a spark travel through my veins as we fought angrily over the photo scrounging to beat Near no matter how pathetically I went about it. We were tugging on it so forcefully that I toppled myself over, still unwavering to keep the photo from him. Though I was on the ground now, the stupid boy climbed all over me to get it back, even though it was a picture of me that he had no business carrying. I tried to crawl away several times, but Near just jumped on me, damp and sweaty just like I had been. Once he was over me, Near gave a final, detrimental yank to the photograph, ripping it in half.

We dropped either half of the photo, letting them float and sink into the ground peacefully.

There was a silence between us. An embarrassed, competitive, vain silence, as he crouched over me, our breaths syncing perfectly.

"I hate you Near."

I emphasized every letter, sharpened every word and stated them all in an unintentional angry sequence. How true it was. How much I felt that hatred, that undying passion sever my brain and heart every single fucking day. How much I fucking hated him.

"I know." He whispered morosely.

He stared at me, and my hateful silence was replaced with his innocent one. My heart skipped a beat when he closed his eyes and started to remove himself from me. It didn't matter to me whether or not I was making the right decision then. I just didn't want him gone, that smart-ass. So, I grabbed his waist, and pushed him into my chest. His face was scared and surprised, and his body tense and unrelenting, but I just clung tightly and whispered, "Don't you dare think you can leave me."

He relaxed a little as I stroked his back and murmured hatefully into his silky hair, moving my lips purposefully closer and closer to his forehead. There was not more I needed to say to him. Emotions were dominant in this arrangement. So, obviously, I didn't need to justify my next few actions.

I tightened my hold around him possessively, whispering, "Mine…mine, mine," as he constricted, squeezing his eyes closed and clenching the dark fabric of my shirt in his fists. I then did not wait or ask for permission as I ran my lips across his forehead, moving down his face, eyes slightly open just so I could see him get redder and redder with every movement I made. I touched my forehead to his once I finished, leaving his lips out of the equation purposefully. His blush was infinitely spreading. Near's cloudy eyes opened just a little, looking down towards the ground, but still anticipating. Still hopeful.

"Near," I whispered, my lips close enough to his to where even my breath made him tense and flush like he'd never been touched before. I couldn't imagine he had been, and that… excited me?

The air was thick, and not just because it was practically boiling outside. I didn't even stumble upon the fact that Near was so reserved and untouchable that this was much more than I expected. The heat was vaporizing everything—including my sanity. Scarcely did I not think about the never-ending problems Near caused me. The endless nights I studied and worked and researched, practically beating myself to stay awake, the nervous habit I had of checking the rankings, the grades, each book he checked out, hoping that it was something different, that I'd be ahead this one time… Hope was my enemy. Hard work was my rival. Disappointment was my friend. But I couldn't stop. I lost hours of sleep, pixels of focus, feeling of life, all because of him. Him, with his unreadable actions, expression, livelihood… Him with all of his insatiable pride that only I could see. He looked down on me; he thought _he_ controlled _me_.

And only I could see that it was all too true. He was the fueller of my actions. The starter and the tender of the flames that burned and smoldered my mind, my heart, and my entire mentality… my being. He was destroying me.

Without giving it a second thought, I placed my hands on his shoulders and shoved him fiercely on the ground, my breathing becoming heavy and consumable as he thud against the ground without so much as a whimper. I stood over him angrily, my inconstant blush thickening, and let him see what I was doing.

It is me that towers over you Near.

It is me that controls you Near.

You are nobody else's, Near.

And I am not yours.

It is me that towers over you.

...

I replaced my anger with a look of stabbing cruelty, placing my foot on his chest dominantly.

"Near." I asserted, as he looked up at me with unexpressive gray eyes. "Do you know what love is?"

His brow slightly furrowed at this, question skidding across his head. His face was just as quickly innocent and untouchable again as he blinked slowly and answered, "I do not understand emotions very well Mello.

But what I know of love is true. Love is … a despicable emotion. Not only are its theories over-analyzed, its phrases over-used and its practice ridiculous, it might be the sole cause of human selfishness. In the presence of love is the presence of hatred.

However…"

I acknowledged that my expression softened and the pressure that I applied onto his chest was lighter. This boy's voice was stabbing at my stomach, asking for my participation in his games. But…

All of his words were open and genuine.

I couldn't help wondering if he'd have ever shared this with anyone else. If he was tortured by these sorts of deep, protruding thoughts everyday. Infinitely…

Too smart for his own good.

"If there was no love, would we know hate? If there were no hate would we know love? And if there were neither… would we know any emotion at all? What is a world without emotion to be? A world without opinion or perception, hatred or love, only self-preservation… to make a world without purpose. That is what love is."

He was no longer looking at me. He was staring disinterestedly… no. There was more to his eyes, to his expression, to his ignorance to look at me. So, I formed a rebuttal.

"What? A partition to excellent balance?"

"As far as I am concerned." He stated blankly, his voice silky and detached. I would coax him out.

"I find that quite disturbing, Near," I stated, a look of concern, or perhaps, disgust emblazoning my face. I lowered myself to sit next to his parallel body, making sure to drape my leg over him so he would not attempt to leave. He didn't struggle or even move for that matter, so it was assured that he wouldn't run from me, but…

"What disturbs you about it, Mello?"

"Emotions…" I started, passion filling my throat. "Emotions are all of our vulnerabilities pointed out at once. They are all confusing and unexplainable. They are the downside of intelligence. There isn't really a way to so broadly classify them. There is far more to emotions than we will ever know."

He was looking at me, blinking faster than normal, puzzled. "I understand, but I also don't…"

"You don't know what love _is._ Or I should say you don't have an insight or experience. You don't know what it feels like, only what it, externally, can do to a person… your knowledge on the subject is incomplete."

"…" I could feel his gaze on me, absorbent. But I only touched his chest, my eyes directed thoughtfully at the leaves underneath me.

"I only say this regarding love because I know… underneath your hard exterior, Near, you know of sadness, and anger, fear, and happiness," I explained. I glanced at him, and he'd closed his eyes, touching my hand gently. This was a different situation from before. This… was peace.

I removed my leg and lay by him, staring. Analyzing his every facial feature, I touched his cheekbone. 'Soft…' I thought, as I rolled my hand down his face. 'I hate you…'

His breathing was just as soft as his skin, rhythmic like a piano. He was beautiful. Captivating. And as suddenly as I started, I couldn't stop myself. Our lips grazed together gently, until I pressed mine to his impulsively. It was surreal, the softness, the intensity, and eventually, his need becoming so unbearable, that he kissed back. I had to part with him, breathing scarce, but we were quick to reconvene. He looked at me through only one barely slit eye, emotion clouding his very vision. I smiled, pulling his blushing face back to mine. He kissed me this time, his presence making me limp and unusable, under his complete control. But it wasn't this way for long, my impulses unable to weather such a soft, sweet kiss, as I finally forced myself onto him, licking his bottom lip and eliciting a soft moan. He allowed me to venture inside, our tongues touching softly and uncertainly, our bodies tense with electricity. He was too shy. I needed far more than what he was willing to provide right away. I had to coax him out, gently, slowly, stroking his tongue with mine my heart ceasing to beat with every tentative lick. His whimpers were short but passionate, his body leaning into mine.

Am I teaching you lust, Near?

My hands crept under his sticky, thin shirt, stroking his back slowly. He moaned softly at this too, seeming to want more. I knotted our tongues together, unknowingly letting him rub his tongue against the roof of my mouth. I groaned passionately, heat thickening in my throat. I rolled my fingers over his neck, and clutched his hair. He mimicked my motions, but instead of tampering with my hair, he linked his arms around my neck as I unbuttoned his shirt, braving through each of our moaning. Our hearts beat together as we expertly flicked our tongues together, having to part and pant and stare at each other, wishing that we didn't have to breathe. I licked Near's cheek, his breathing becoming thicker than mine, and his blush noticeable. I wrapped my arms around him, forcing him to turn his face away from me. He softly whimpered unsatisfactorily, but I just smirked, my fingers crawling around his chest. I continued to salivate over his neck, stroking the curve in his side. He shuddered against me, a small moan escaping his lips.

"Shh…" I whispered, and he knew why. He pursed his lips and attempted to keep quiet. I kissed his neck sweetly. "M…ahn…M-Mello," He stammered almost incoherently as I played with his nipples. He bit his lip as I ran a newly wet finger over his tender, untouched chest. He suppressed his pleasured whimpers, shuddering profusely and hissing a little. I happily ran my fingers through his hair, going slowly across his neck with my tongue, running my teeth down it, all the while pinching and rolling him beneath my fingers. He'd cringe and pant and tense over and over, breathing unsteadily, doing everything to keep quiet. I rolled my eyes and repositioned him so that he was facing me again.

"You're very bad at keeping quiet, Near," I whispered. He nodded, a little drool running down his cheek. "I will have to punish you for that," I mumbled lustily, fingering the waistband of his pants. His eyes are wide and unprepared, and his blush exceedingly cute as I protrude into his pants, stroking his hip. He pursed his lips and squeezed his eyes shut as I laid my head against his bare chest, letting the saliva run out of my mouth and pool on him as I fingered the area right above his erection. I wondered…

Did he have an erection?

I retracted my hand, my own blush spreading, as he peered down at me, surprised and disappointed. I glanced up at him, his sultry eyes boring into mine. He bit his lip, and I looked down, blushing far more than before, but distracting him long enough to position my hand right above his dick before pressing down, surprising, and fiercely pleasuring, Near. I moved rapidly to clamp my hand on his mouth, hearing a heated, delayed, "Mmmmph!"

That… that turned me on… He started to suck on my fingers, and bite them slightly, satisfying his need for the time being. But with each suck, each moment his teeth ran over my finger, I became more and more aroused. I rolled my eyes into the back of my skull, breathing heavily, licking my lips. But I confirmed my suspicions. He was aroused. Very much so. It made me smirk to just think about how completely sensitive he was to physical experiences. Near had no control over these sorts of impulses and functions. I loved how powerful I was. I could go and stop whenever I wanted. And Near had no power over it. None. I bit his shoulder, not biting so hard he'd feel too much pain. He moaned against my hand again, his tongue continuing to run over my fingers. I was so… I needed something… far too badly.

I removed myself from him and rearranged my clothes.

"M-mello…?" He whimpered. He sounded pitifully edible, his words dripping with an emotion that both of us didn't know, didn't comprehend, but we shared… I couldn't look at him. I knew I had to leave. Fuck this. Fuck it.

"Near, you know we can't do this," I stated, acting remorseful, acting unaffected, acting cold and cruel. "Besides," I turned slightly towards him, "I came to complete a task with you, not fuck you senseless."

His eyes widened, embarrassedly. His face was turning pinker, his clothes re-sticking to his body. He started to re-button his shirt frantically, most likely to avoid my glare. His expression was one of incredulous embarrassment, frazzled and confused. I felt compelled to drift toward him and re-do the buttons on my own, but if I did that, I'm already too aroused to leave him alone… I'd certainly do something foolish.

Not Near.

Not here.

It's all wrong. Every component in this equation. All of these things together make no sense and are bound to create a devastating nuclear reaction.

But why then… Why is the product, for the time being, so nice..? So pleasing?

I started to walk away, hearing nothing but the sound of birds tweeting irritably and the crush of the leaves between my feet. A soft noise began to parallel my rustling one, and I realized that this was the way Near was telling me he was following.

When I reached the inside of the house, I spun around to face Near. He looked surprised as he crashed into my chest, still erect, and still furtively embarrassed.

Every part of me screamed to give him the attention he and I so desperately craved, but I guess I got off on driving myself insane, because…

I hated him.

I really hated him.

…

Didn't I?

…

Don't I?

Well. Fuck then.

Fuck it all! I whispered into his ear, "I know you want to get rid of that," I took this pause to kiss his earlobe gently, "But I'm not going to finish what I stupidly started," I removed myself from his side, backing up to glare at him hatefully, and get my point across loud and clear. "It doesn't matter anyway," I enunciated aggressively, "We're rivals." I slit my eyes at him and exited the back hallway, feeling his eyes on me every step of the way.

I only walked a little bit, just until I could safely duck behind the staircase, and then, and only then, did I start to cry. I didn't know why I started, and I didn't know how, but the tears rained down my face, as I clutched the back of my legs. What the hell was I doing to myself? A headache was formulating as my emotions battled each other, underneath a goddamned staircase bawling my eyes out, when I heard a voice call my name.

"Mello? Damn it! Where the fuck is he?"

Goddamn it! It's Matt!

I don't know where he came from or how he knew I was vulnerable, but as soon as I tried pathetically to hide myself, Near crawled into the passage under the staircase. I didn't know this at first, because my back was against a wall, and my eyes were squeezed shut, but he crawled upon me and murmured into my ear, "Mello."

"I know you want to get rid of that," he brushed my hair away from his face, "So I'm going to finish what I let you start." He kissed my cheek softly, and then pointed in the direction of a secret passage through the staircase. I looked at him, bewildered. How had I never noticed that? But his face was once again blank and expressionless, devoid of all the emotions he'd let me see, all the weakness he displayed for me… It was too little, his shy, soft kisses. He wasn't impulsive enough, because his guard wasn't completely down.

He wasn't positive I wouldn't leave him.

"Don't worry, Near," I whispered as I crawled into the passage, "I won't leave again."

The exit was in a small hallway between the Common Room and the Library, where the bathrooms were. I smirked as we re-emerged, dust embedding itself onto my clothes. I stood, and offered Near a hand, serious about fleeing undiscovered. He got up and started to walk in the direction of the Library, leaving me to follow mindlessly. He smiled as I realized where he was heading me.

"Near, I'm not taking the back staircase." I asserted.

"Fine. Let Matt find out about your… problem. That's not mine," he bantered mischievously.

I could only growl hopelessly because he was right.

No one took the back staircase. First of all, it led directly to the door of Room One, and secondly, it was the most dangerous thing in the whole of Wammy's house. It led straight up, steeply, the only creaky, old wooden staircase out of the five in the house, and no one used it anymore, leaving it engrossed in dust, spider webs, etc. But, Beyond Birthday and A used them at one point, which left disputable stains on various steps. Some stupid kid who has already left, and died probably concerning the typical fate of Wammy kids, decided to tell everyone that A haunted the staircase, of course rendering it the most useless thing in the whole house. It wouldn't bother me if I wasn't afraid of dropping over sixteen feet into who knows what and getting a total nosebleed. So it's safe to say I avoided it along with the rest of the house.

Except Near, of course. What a bitch.

And all I can say is there we were, crawling carefully up those cursed stairs. The afternoon sun fell through the broken window in the corner, at least illuminating the darkest part of the mansion. When we finally reached the top, my unrealistic dislike of heights distilling me from looking down, I opened my eyes to see Near quickly open the door of the nearest room. "What the hell…" I started, but Near quickly shook his head and gestured for me to join him. Puzzled, I started towards him slowly, only to hear, "Matt, we're going to look down here, but I'm telling you, he's around. Mello doesn't just run."

"He ain't got no where to run to," Another chuckled, but we didn't hear the rest as I ran inside and shut the door as silently as possible.

I slid down the wall, distraught. Why'd I get myself into this?

"Shit…"

"Sh." Near crawled on top of me again, and before I could tell him to get off, or even move for that matter, his lips pressed against mine.

"Mmm…" I tried to keep as quiet as possible, but it was now impossible. Near stimulated so much out of me, and I wanted this so badly. It was a reminder of what I had so eagerly denied myself, only to be fulfilled by someone who wanted it even more than I did.

I _was_ teaching him lust, step by step, and it was working.

We rushed into the tongue kissing, reminding each other of our insatiable erections and sexuality. I couldn't keep my hands off of his shirt, quickly unbuttoning it and resuming the instigation I'd started earlier. He was happy to oblige, worming himself in between my legs. He stroked my chest with the same avidity I ravaged his mouth with, and I can't even remember how, but my shirt slid off and I pinned the defenseless boy onto the ground. "Nn…" He moaned greedily, tilting himself up at me when I slowly parted from him, connecting our tongues with a steady train of drool. I pressed him gently onto the floor, and he complied, his ability to control himself slipped between his fingers. I replaced our lips together, nibbling his lower lip and eliciting a pleasured moan. I was excited to lower myself almost on top of him, my erection throbbing happily with the electricity it craved. Every part of me hurt with anticipation, my heart pulsing so hard I was afraid it would kill me. He lifted his legs as my torso protruded his personal space, almost laying itself on his. I buried my head into his neck licking the back of it sloppily, letting him tense up as the coolness of my saliva rushed down his spine. I licked his neck a little more, running my teeth across it. "Ah…" Near gasped, as I ran my fingers over his thighs, licking them ever so often and stroking his bare sides instead. His breathing was thick and his blush was so bad I could feel the heat emanate from him. "Mmm," I moaned loudly as he ground himself against me in a fervent attempt to get me to realize what he wanted me to touch, to stroke, to salivate over and suck. "No," I mumbled, "Bad boy."

I then twisted his nipple in between my wet fingers, causing him to whimper and shiver in masochistic pleasure. I bit his neck, sucking vigorously, as he cried painfully under me, unable to do anything but let me touch him as I pleased. I ran my fingers under his waistband again. He squirmed and shuddered under my hand as I played with his collar in the other hand, sliding his shirt down his shoulders. I then positioned myself to where I could freely touch his erection whenever I wanted. I did so right then, gently through the cloth of his pants, practically sticking my hand into the heat of the fire. "Ahn!" He gasped, and I continued to stroke and watched his face, biting my lip hungrily. He was showing me an emotion I'd never seen before, and that he'd never shown anyone else. His eyes were shut tight and his mouth formatted into a small, timid frown, and his delicate pink blush spread across his cheeks like a towel. He opened his mouth a little and looked at me, his gray eyes smoldering with unspeakable passion and lust, compelling me to crawl toward him and envelop his lips in mine. I stuck my pinky finger on the tip of his penis, making a screwing motion lightly with my hand. He had to break our kiss in order to gasp for air, his eyes refusing to meet with mine in the embarrassing pleasure I was causing him. I wrapped my hand in his hair, continuing to press harder and harder on his head as he gasped alongside me, my forehead pressed to his. He was sweating now, as was I. He draped his arms across my back, unable to do much but sit there under my complete control as I licked at his lips and touched him gently through his pants. It wasn't enough. My softness was killing him. He continuously bucked his hips up to get me to press harder, stroke harder, do more. But I didn't. His needs made me salivate hungrily, feeding off of his weakness. I licked him, unsatisfied with the little whimper I received and the throbbing of my own erection crying for me to go further. I started to trail my tongue down his body; his surprise encouraging shudders upon shudders from him as I slid my tongue down his small curvatures. Once I finally reached his waistband, I lowered it slowly, bringing my tongue to a reluctant halt. I kissed his stomach as I stroked his hip again, causing him to hiss and moan in delight. I was becoming more and more excited, the blood rushing so quickly through my body it hurt me to even move. My fingertips were stinging as I brought myself level with his hipbone, hearing his heartbeat and his heavy, thick breathing, or should I say gasping, right above me. I started to drag my tongue lazily across the waistband, right above the forbidden area that he wanted me so desperately to venture toward. "Aghn…" He groaned, partially pleased, partially frustrated. I smirked as I kissed him softly, moving a little further down each way, but not bothering to take his pants out of the equation. He seemed to be a little tense and puzzled when I started to run my lips over the covered part of his lower region, but only did he understand my motive when I bit down on his protruding erection. "AH!" He screamed, and I hissed an urgent, "Sh! Do you want them to find us and report to Roger?"

He clasped his hand over his mouth, a passionate moan muffled by its placement. I rewarded him by swallowing him through his pants, only giving him a fraction of the pleasure of deep-throating his erection. He didn't seem to be able to breathe or moan as he swallowed and bucked his hips up at me, a hand attaching itself to the back of my head, entangling in my golden hair.

This was too little for the both of us. I was becoming voracious, crawling on top of him eagerly, removing his pants with his eager assistance.

"M-mello…" He mumbled hungrily, as I starting playing with the elastic on his boxers.

"I… ah… should we..nnnnh," I was fingering the area right above his penis, licking at the nape of his neck, shoving my erection far too close to his entrance.

"Is this… okay?" He whispered, fighting the pleasure that was settling in his throat.

"What do you mean?" I asked back, trying to restrain myself from fiddling with him so he wouldn't pant out the words.

"I don't think we should be doing this…" He answered, his body defying his mind, squirming a little under me to get me to touch him. He was fighting himself. What he needed and what his mind told him to do. He was thinking irrationally, and didn't like it.

"Near," I whispered lustrously. He shut his eyes and tilted himself up at me. "Let yourself go, and let me touch you."

He looked at me, tears in his eyes and nodded uncertainly.

"Trust me, Near." I assured, kissing him lovingly. "I'll take care of you."

His eyes widened, and he blushed cutely. He bit the inside of his cheek to suppress his whines and he nodded furtively into my chest.

"Mello," He whispered,

"I trust you."

* * *

_à suivre..._

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Bahahaha, I did that on purpose. It was a sweet, confusing, sick, malevolent chapter that was an enjoyment to scribe. I am the witness, not the partaker. _

_But cha like the cliffhanger? _

_Ah… It is so humid where I live that I felt it almost necessary to put Near and Mello through the same insipid hell that they'd be so hazed to harbor an inclination to have hot, premarital relations. _

_Well, that's my timer. See ya._

_[No song this time, I have to go]_

_~Sam_


	13. Caught

"_Nous ne sommes que des animeaux. C'est naturale tout a fait."_

**Forevermore – **_Chapitre Douze/_Twelve

Mello

I was in mid-thrust when they found us.

Absorbed. That's what I was. I'd brought out a Near I'd never seen, a Near no one had ever seen, and no one ever would… If had a word about it. It was only natural that he was the only thing I could hear, pleading and screaming and moaning as I slid in and out of him, trying, futilely to suppress his pleasured whimpering. The only thing I could see, in flashes, beads of sweat traveling down his flustered, soft, untouchable body. The only thing I could smell, inevitably sweat and sugar and, Near's trademark, fresh linen. The smell was becoming akin to cocaine for me. Intoxicating and impossible to get off of… The only thing I could feel, tight around my dick, soft and smooth on my fingertips, a texture that could only be Near. His shuddering and shivering each time I returned from leaving his entrance. The only thing I could taste, his amicable sweat and lips still lingering on my electrified tongue. He was my lifeline. He was my heart, beating and eclectic; the only thing that mattered. So when Matt neared the door, still arguing with the two other boys, now with shaky, fear-stricken voices, the caliber that I was hearing them with was about that of someone under water and under the influence. At the same time. The light coming in through the bottom of the door was suddenly blinding. My gaze shot towards the entrance listening furtively and alarmingly pulled out of Near as quickly as possible. Near's face became one of a shockingly mortal pain, and tears brimmed at his eyes as he clamped his hand across his mouth. I gulped. The doorknob outside the room rattled as Matt growled, "It's not haunted, you stupid…"

Near and I were illuminated and brought to shame almost instantaneously, gasps arising from the door in corrupt shock.

Silence.

A baffled, disgusted silence. A terrified, embarrassed silence.

"Mello?" Matt stammered, staring at me in wide-eyed disbelief, horror; wary of betrayal.

I couldn't say anything. Nothing I could say would make this situation better.

"Why?" Matt murmured, on the brink of tears. Not one of the boys who Matt was accompanied by was at the door anymore, probably having left to go retrieve Roger.

I sighed in forfeit, looking up at Matt, deadpanned. "Forgive me."

He pursed his lips and placed the orange goggles over his eyes. He appeared as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just seen the most incriminating, terrifying, confusing event in his life so far. And only I knew that behind those goggles was a dog whose owner had left for Maui without him. A loyal friend who was abandoned and betrayed… demeaned and belittled… confused and sad. Empty. The flashlight he had laid meaningless on the floor as his arms dropped to his sides, lethargically. He turned around, as if to leave, but didn't move for a good minute, finally willing himself to walk away, not looking back or forward, really.

He was just… lost.

And he ran away, his footsteps echoing through the hallway.

Poor Matt.

At least I wasn't impaling Near's ass anymore when they walked in. I unfittingly smiled at this thought. Near began calmly walking to retrieve his clothes from the random parts of the room I had tossed them. His white pants were thrown on the bookshelf auspiciously; his shirt was on the bedpost.

I however did not have the same complacency.

I shook my head, muttering somewhat deficiently, "There's no way they won't expel me after this… so much for becoming L." I shoved my boxers and pants back onto my body.

I stared at Near, who clothed himself with ease, aridly floating from his oversized, pajama pants to the clear round buttons on his shirt. He didn't bother to button them all or flatten his collar.

"You're a real douche, you know that?" I half-joked.

He tilted his head at me, unable to comprehend anything that I had just said to him.

"You know whose fault this is Near?" I prodded, voice rising in anger.

"Yours and mine, Mello." He responded calmly, pulling his cuffs down from around his fingertips.

"Bullshit it's mine! I specifically said no! This shouldn't have happened! We're rivals! Don't I hate you!" I projected, throat clogging up. I couldn't be as angry with him as before. Solid evidence of this was protruding through my pants at this moment. I looked at him and I saw more than a pallid, antisocial boy with the occasional cute look.

This could be it, this could be it, we could be done, and it could be over… nothing, no future… I clutched the door, trying to keep myself from tightening up too much. My throat was of no compliance though. I could hardly breathe. Terrified.

A gentle breeze slid down my back as a fall night air drifted in. I turned my head slightly, watching Near unbutton the top few latches on his flannel shirt, the fabric falling listlessly to his sides. He inhaled deeply; the pale, early moonlight devouring his body. His eyes met mine, cold like I knew mine were, with an emotion no one knew but us. His eyes sucked me in, so dark and inviting, bringing me closer and closer to him until I…

His fingertips grazed gently on my bare chest. He twirled my blonde hair in fitful habit, speculating it as if it were a delicate experiment, precious beyond value. I granted him a simple, sweet smile, holding his hand in mine, his small, thin fingers fitting into mine. His face became one of shock and embarrassment, a pink blush scrawling across his cheeks, a reaction that could not have been spurred even when being caught doing something repulsive and immoral. I grinned evilly, licking my lips, but as I leaned into him, his aura overtook me, losing my smile, forcing me to hold him gently by the small of his back, meeting his lips in the sweet, soft touch that my love craved. I immersed myself in Near's gentleness, each touch feeling like a volt of electricity. There was something about him, his calm, conservative kisses that excited me more than touching him privately.

He buried his head covertly in my shirt, letting me hold him, a pleasure long overdue. I couldn't restrain my smile, curling my hand in his soft, silky hair. What was this vile, demon current that ravaged my blood, forcing me to feel this way? To want nothing more in the world, trapped in the moment?

I hate it. I hate it so much.

"Mello, Near, to Roger's office. _Immediately._" A voice sprayed from the intercom. Near and I quickly detached from eachother, a glance connecting our eyes for another moment.

I was first to walk away, brisk and steely, Near momentarily in my stead. But I couldn't take what he was doing to me, the emotional gravity of what I'd done… and what I'd failed to do.

My cock throbbed in my pants, but it didn't make me anything but angry.

When I opened the door to Roger's office, it was apparent what would happen to me already. It was embedded in his face. A part of my soul began to ice over and corrode, my walk to the seat across from him a barren and solemn one.

I didn't even remember that Near was to be here as well, and when he neared the door, Roger shook his head fervently and said in a tone I'd never heard Roger in before: grave.

"Wait outside, Near." Each word was growled and articulated, and Near's face actually registered… fear. He shut the large, maroon door, and left me alone with discipline.

"Mello," he thundered, "In all my years overseeing this orphanage and dealing with you, never would I suspect you would betray everyone in this facility and do what you did. Especially to Near! I should have you berated and expelled!" His voice raised with each word that came out of his mouth, making me smaller and smaller in a world I thought I knew.

But something gave me hope. 'I _should_ have you berated and expelled!' … I was trembling like an earthquake had erupted insideof me. My heart shuddered and quaked. I was over, L was over, I would never win…

"What do you have to say for yourself, Mello?" Roger fired. I sighed, nervousness dashing my breathing.

"Near… don't punish him please…. It's not Near's fault…" I stammered, baffled myself at everything I was saying. I faced certain demise, but all I cared about was the well-being of Near?

"Near and I… we had sex. This is true. What is not true is that I did it out of spite. It isn't fair. Please Roger, don't tell L. It will destroy us both."

I could feel the nerves in my face shutting down, shaking like a leaf in the breeze. My confidence deferred, leaving me a shell of the real Mello, the Mello who cared only for himself and his own preservation, the Mello whose ball-breaking ways scare kids off the playground and save lunch tables and build shrines in his honor. The Mello who can't stand being number two, the Mello who is the best and will prove it to everyone else. The Mello who no one cared about. The Mello who's making it his turn to shine. The Mello who will never get adopted, who no one will ever love… but perhaps can still make a difference for kids like him… The Mello whose rival is standing in the way between him and saving the world. The Mello who will do anything to get what he desires most…

What's happening to me?

"Roger… I hate Near, I really do, and you must trust me on that. But… the way he… I just couldn't… restrain myself. I want him to feel like I feel about him. Maybe one day he'll learn…" I slit my eyes and clenched my fists, "What it's really like… to be me."

"… Mello… " Roger's tone sounded gentler, and more confused. He was reminding me of Matt. Lost in a web woven of the results of my strange impulses.

I looked up at him, tears bordering my eyes, innocence invited, yet so foreign in my heart. I was just a boy… no matter what I said or did.

I just wanted Near. I wanted to hold Near and forget everything, a dark shroud of remorse and nervous pain enveloping me. L… I only wanted him to pardon me… Give me a second chance… I fiddled nervously and desperately with my cross. Wasn't I his favorite?

I nodded reassuringly to myself, but it did little good as Roger flipped through some paperwork.

"Mello, send Near in now. Wait outside." He snapped.

I shot up, the blood stopping in my veins. "B-but," I stumbled.

"Now!"

I was losing it. Where are you, Mello? I timidly waddled towards the door, pulling down slowly on the lever. Near was coolly leaning against the wall, breathing slowly as if inhaling a smoke, his eyes devoid of any emotion or consciousness. I gestured at him, a bead of sweat forming on my head, barely able to grip the handle.

He nodded curtly, taking the door from me, but not before meeting my gaze, giving me a short glimpse, if only for a second, at his real eyes. The love I feel… is nothing compared to the overlapping fear of L. L… he'll… what will he do?

Near shut the door gently behind him, striding to face the music, and I just fell to my knees outside the door, wanting to release my entire bottle, wanting to yell and scream and blame Near, wanting to shudder and cry and fall down on the ground, my whole fate in the hands of this one heated experience.

This is my entire fault. Is this my problem, these emotions…?

It was all Near's fault! Look at what he'd done to me! To my emotions, my heart, my sanity! He was driving me closer and closer to the edge… and this may be the point where I tip over…

It all relies on whether L pushes me over or pulls me back.

And I'm so scared… I'm practically paralyzed.

"Mello, return inside please," Near beckoned from outside.

"This doesn't change anything, you elitist bastard," I mumbled to Near.

His disposition was almost one of disappointment… or regret. "I see… I didn't expect more, Mello…"

I scowled. "You don't think I can?"

His face didn't even twitch. Didn't break a bit. "Mello, we can argue later."

I stalked in, my familiar anger rejoining me. I felt so much better having taken it out on Near… but I wanted to argue more, so I could crawl in at midnight and kiss his face lovingly, not needing to apologize because it was how I released my stress. Near was so simple, all he had to do was sit down with a jigsaw and he was fine. I was more complex. I knew I was smarter. I just had to prove it to L.

Roger picked up the silver landline phone and dialed a number on the keypad.

"Yes, Watari?" My blood ran cold. "Can you please connect me to L? … Yes of course, Whammy's 5 Law ten over seven. Thank you." Roger put his hand over the receiver and gave us a curt shake of the head. He turned around in his large black chair.

I quickly struck, grabbing Near's hand in mine delicately.

He didn't even glance at me but I could feel his puzzlement in his soft grip of my hand. I faintly smiled, needing only his puzzlement to revert my whole mood.

"L? Yes, we have a situation here… Yes, I understand, but this really… I see. Ok." There was a lengthy pause here, and I became hopeful that we were off the hook. Until L actually started to listen.

"Ah yes, ok. Mello and Near were caught in the forbidden Room… yes, I am positive it was both Mello and Near, together. Yes, and they were caught having sexual intercourse. No, this is not a practical joke, L. …It's the middle of November. I just don't see your logic at all… wow. All right… are you sure about that? All right…" Roger began to explain, "I will put you on speakerphone through to L. Behave."

Roger then exited the room, and my alarm skyrocketed. My whole body turned numb. Icicles. I took a shaky breath, when L said, "Ah all finished. Now we can't be tapped nor heard. Hello, boys."

"Hello, L." Near replied complacently, but I was just choking on my words, dying of excited, terrified nervousness. This was what I imagine the other kids must feel about me…

I suddenly felt disturbingly inferior. Near, however… I narrowed my cobalt eyes at him.

"I can say, I never expected this call." He seemed to say this with a knowledgeable smirk, "However, I fully support your relationship with each other and wish only happiness for the both of you. And perhaps, one day, you will be able to work together in peace." L said, calmly and expectantly. He then bid us goodnight and hung up the phone.

Near's face was a blank slate.

But my mouth was dropped so far I could feel the coldness of the floor.

_What just happened?_

* * *

_à suivre..._

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_I'm sorry about this one's two-month hiatus. I actually, no joke, wrote a whole, completely different, 12 page chapter before this one, but I was extremely dissatisfied. It was cheesy, left no suspense, and didn't give me pretense for any arguing, somewhat abusive romance for the chapter after this one. So, here's a rather lacking chapter that you shouldn't have had to wait two months for. But, trust me, the next one I have plans for… huhuhuhu._

_Took my story_

_And I wrote it down_

_Wrote a review_

_And you passed it around_

_And you saw Forevermore on Fanfiction_

_Just write the damned review this is becoming difficult._

_[It was supposed to be Landslide, but I fucked out on you]_

_Blood and Chocolate, _

_~Sam_


	14. Epilogue: Matt's Account

**Forevermore **– Chapitre Troize/_Thirteen_

Mello

Well, goddamn.

I returned to my room more confused than ever, after passing Roger in the hallway and ignoring him coldly. It was as if I was bolting through the air, unreachable by human standard, weakly, ineptly floating up the stairs and through the dome. I held my breath; sliding down the closed, burgundy door and staring out at the early morning's pale light, one of both sun and moon. I weakly compelled myself into bed; unable to fall asleep, but certainly unfit to do much else but lay there.

I sighed, and rubbed my fingers across my lips lightly, feathery to touch. Sparks went flying inside of me, and my incarnate horniness for Near returned, thinking of him and how he touched me so gently, so halcyon himself… My mind cluttered, filling with delicious pictures of Near, cloudy-eyed and biting his lips, breathing in only pants and hungry whines. I just wanted to touch him, to lick him, to have him… "Ahh…" I sighed, unthinkingly touching my penis, making my whole body tingle in suppressed pleasure.

"N-near…" I mumbled lustily. My cock screamed, but I just lacked the hunger I had when Near was present. Near…

Near…

I closed my eyes and turned myself over on the bed. Inhaling the smell of fresh laundry detergent on the soft red comforter, my mind immediately flickered to Near. I smelt him. I felt him…

'Nnh… M-mello…'

I stroked my penis quickly, biting my lip, catching my breath. I could feel his soft lips on my skin, beckoning me, so tempting. I felt the tentative, wet licks from his tongue on my neck, and on my arm, his body on my back, wordlessly whispering his ever-growing lust. I ground my teeth together and grunted in eroticism, burying my face into the blanket. I gripped and pumped at my hungry member, flames rolling through my body…

'Near, Near! Ah! Dammit, ahn… mm…'

"Ahh…" I sighed, the heat spilling from my mouth. Each stroke, each pump, each fondle was so delicious, but just wasn't satisfying enough. I needed him; I needed the real thing!

I went faster, squeezing my eyes shut and thinking of his whimpers as I instigated the intercourse, his pleading, yearning with a newfound hunger I forced him to find. But now it was he that was forcing me to sustain myself… I smiled a little, thinking of this incapable little boy. This perfect, pure, unable boy. He made me so… I don't even know. I don't even know how he made me so…

'Near…' I thought, 'One day, I will kill you. That… I swear.'

I pumped faster and faster, finally cumming, sadly, all over my bedspread. But that wasn't what was sad. What was sad was that I needed Near so badly, I would even concede to masturbation…

I fell asleep in a stupor, angry, troubled and unhappily pleased.

Near… One day, I will kill you.

That I swear.

Waking up the next morning, the sun shining brightly and excitedly through my window, I grumpily rolled out of bed, naked. What I had expected. What I didn't expect was the redheaded boy leaning on the bedpost.

"MATT?" I quickly snagged a pair of my boxers from the floor. "What the hell are you doing in here?"

His head whipped around, as if alarmed but eager, and he fumbled over each of his words, "Oh, Mello, hey, I, uh, came to …apologize." He grinned goofily at me, like he did when he expected something exciting to happen. I couldn't smile back at him. Seconds passed. Matt's grin deteriorated and it was left in the wake of worry, carefully painting itself on his narrow face. "I'm sorry, Mello, I'm so sorry for whatever happened to you…" He hung his head in shame. "Don't cast me away…"

I gazed at him blankly. I was quite skeptical that he would even find his way back, much less apologize for that which was my fault…

I grinned at him and punched him on the shoulder as lightheartedly as I could, but chagrin was fucking with my head. My eyes glazed over, my whole body in a distant lull… it seemed to go too slowly and too quickly all at once. I slumped down next to him, his face turned to me, a look of hope and surprise brazening his face.

"I'm so sorry, Matt, for what you saw. I don't want to include you in all of this… confusion."

Matt frowned conspicuously. "Mello, why do you always hold things back from me? Aren't I your friend?"

"…Matt, you're my best friend," I smirked, half-heartedly, "You know that, idiot."

"Sometimes, it doesn't seem that way." He pouted profusely. "Mello…" He looked at me critically, his brown eyes foresting with determination, "I think you're becoming a little too absorbed in your work."

"Matt, what are you implying?" I challenged.

"Nothing, never mind." He grumbled sadly. But he'd brought it up and I wasn't about to let it go.

"Matt," I pleaded and growled at the same time.

"Forget it, Mello." He seemed angry and huffy with me, something Matt never was. I looked at him, absolutely bewildered as he got up and stormed out of my room, a flourishing disdain lacing his every step.

I grumbled a little myself, cranky and irrefutable. I slid back into bed, unconcerned with the outside world.

They could wait.

Minutes passed and I fell into a lull, not exactly sleep and not exactly consciousness. Then I heard a slight creak and a click, silence formerly looming above me. I stayed perfectly still.

Maybe he'd think I was asleep. Maybe he wouldn't try to apologize again for the things I have done.

Suddenly, a wave of linen scent descended on me.

Recognition shot me in the chest. Realization flooded the barracks of my mind. Emotion dismissed every logical inquiry or thought.

"Near." I whispered under my breath, feeling giddy, naughty, and forbidden like a rampant, hormonal Catholic schoolgirl.

I felt his every step towards me, quiet and reserved.

He stopped at my bedside, the air he brought with him brushing against my hair, giving me goosebumps.

"Good morning, Mello," he said, and I tensed up, unhappy that he had heard me. How stupid I must have sounded!

His fingers ghosted over my forehead, and my skin tingled. His chilling air shot through me. I shut my eyes tightly, trying not to move and unable to brea

* * *

"_Mello!"_

_Mihael's head shoots up from his writing. Roger is pounding on his door. His sheets are still stained with cum and are very much visible. He quickly throws the red comforter over these sullied sheets, panicked. Then, he throws the journal into his top desk drawer and shoves the compartment roughly closed. _

_The journal is unseen and untouched for two weeks._

_It becomes slightly lonely, until a copper-haired boy picks the book up after thrusting the drawer open so forcefully that it falls on the floor. He appears angry and curious at the same time, so he opens the journal. His face morphs as he reads it, from shaking his head and smiling crookedly to crying silently. He reaches the end of the book, where the emotionally turbulent blond has stopped abruptly, and he seems to have an enlightened look upon his face._

_Perhaps he has fooled himself in believing something he knows is wrong._

_The teenager flops down on the crusty, unused bed, which still very much has cum stains on it (but maybe he's disregarding that) and clicks a pen on and opening to a blank page behind the last entry. His omission contains the following statements._

* * *

Matt

I let you get as far as this, whoever may be reading, and for that, my poor delusional friend should be grateful. Mello has long been eaten by the shadows of his present, and wouldn't dare even glance at this old decrepit diary. But I did.

And he was lost in his fantasies even back then, huh.

You see, Mello never had sex with Near.

In fact, no one knew he felt that way. No one… but me.

I could tell.

Mello, from the first moment he saw Near, (at least he got that right) was completely taken. He'd already lost a vital part of his mind that he could never retain. He'd already planted the seeds of obsession.

Unfortunately for Mello, all he could do is see Near, because Near, as you may know already, is not a talker, nor a toucher. So when Mello tried to get close, Near writhed away as far as he could possibly get. It was quite irritating to say the least for the gregarious Mello, to whom which, by his own words, worshiped him at his divine alter as head of the class. He would never lose.

Not even in his head. Not even in this diary. Not even in your mind, whoever you may be.

So he wrote what he wanted to happen that day instead of what really did, like the day he almost drowned Near.

* * *

What really happened is that Mello and Near fell into the pond just as Mello described, only that Mello escaped from the watery prison. He was picked up by some of the boys who rallied around him, all of them screaming profanities and cursing Near's name. The only difference between that soaking, profound blond, and those inane little children at that time was that Mello…

Mello was sobbing. Profusely.

Every word between hiccups was "Fuck". I ran to take him from those two at the time, but he denied me coarsely yelling sentences that weren't completely formulated and fragments that made no sense together, an indecent word in every one and a hiccup littering every other. He was a complete mess.

I quickly realized that Near was struggling in the water, probably sinking like the stone cold boy he was. Frustrated, I shoved Mello and the boys aside, who all watched in sufficient shock.

Mello, however, was in absolute horror.

I put on my goggles and shed my videogames, spouting various "shits" all over the place when suddenly I was splashed in the face with water. I froze, shocked, when she pulled him to the surface.

Linda was the one who jumped in to save Near that day.

Her hair ties were left absently in the grass.

* * *

When Near was left in the hospital after that incident, Mello did go to see him.

He appointed me as his guard, and told me to stay outside and watch for any disruptions or trespassers.

Why would I do that when I could be playing a game and eavesdrop on them? Mello was sometimes a bit of a dull star.

So I dutifully did, leaning against that white uniform door, almost as pure and white as Near. I felt a little bad for him, being in a room alone with that nutjob… that boy whom I loved so much. He was like my twin brother back then. We were always in sync.

It makes me chuckle to think of that Mello… the Mello I lost to this obsession…

"Near, you are so wrong," I heard Mello growl, "You won't be Number One… I'm just as good as you if not much, much better, so you'd better watch out!"

"Mero-rin has so much passion…" He was no longer speaking in English. I suppose he expected Mello to be this adept to know what he was saying and be able to respond fluently.

Was it perhaps… a way of praising Mello?

Mello certainly didn't take it that way.

"Passion about beating you and becoming the best detective in the universe." He sneered. "I will make the world wonder, 'How can he be so good?' The women will all say, 'Mello is really the best! We're so proud he's from England!' 'No he's from Los Angeles, I'd know, I'm from there and I'm his biggest fan!' 'NO WAY, we have a citywide Mello day!' 'Well, we have a statewide Mello day!' … That's how the conversations will go. And you will just be a faded memory, Near!" Mello was particularly fired up.

But to share these inner mechanisms of his heart with his rival, to expose his weakness so ably, I wonder just how much he trusted him. How much passion did Mello really have for Near to show him just how low his self-esteem was, how hard he tried and how desperate to make someone love him and be proud of who he was… How much trust it took to show someone just how weak he was…

"Mello… " Near whispered. My ear was pressed up to the door at this point.

"You are already my favorite."

I can only guess, but knowing Mello quite well, I can say with a certainty that he was blushing with this angry, embarrassed expression on his face. He was so stupid. No wonder he was so magnetic. He was just… completely human.

He couldn't get out a word, though: I could hear his throat clamoring for something as simple as oxygen.

"…..s-stupid!" Mello shrieked. "What kind of mind game is thi…"

Near grabbed him by the back of the head, wrapped his other arm around Mello's shoulders and planted his lips firmly upon Mello's. The blond inhaled sharply, his cobalt blue eyes wide open and dilated. He grabbed waveringly at Near's thin shoulders, not really sure whether to push him away or bring him so close he could never escape again.

All I saw was confusion. And a deep, irrefutable hatred for confusion was something Mello and Near had in common.

So when Near's face retreated from Mello's the only thing Mello could think logically to do…

Was to run straight out of the room.

This is the exact time in which Linda entered to a particularly shattered Near, who was more confused than Mello. Mello was befuddled by the kiss itself, but Near… it took Near years of observation, swift calculation, intricate processes and formulas regarding Mello's behaviors and reactions to dissimilar stimuli to bring him to a conclusion of what action to take and which time to strike in which it would be most affective to get his feelings across.

He planned the entire thing perfectly. It was flawless, the timing, the place, the process… it was immaculate. Near couldn't lose.

But he did.

He lost Mello.

So when Linda decided to feel what it was like to place her lips on that boy's, of whom she so desired, Near just closed his eyes as tight as he could and pretended it was Mello who was putting his tongue to his lips, and Mello who was invading his mouth so shyly.

Who else could it possibly have been? It made no sense… when everything was calculated faultlessly.

* * *

And even just a few weeks ago, to think... he was here a few weeks ago. He was here, he spoke to me. Even though I knew about his obsession with near, I was always just a window, on the outside looking in. Everything he felt, everything he desired, the circumstances that made him spiral completely and helplessly out of control were out of my reach. I could never tell you what ran through Mello's brain, what fire ignited his heart and flooded his body. Only Mello himself could ever truly feel it... and we, reader, are just on the outside looking in.

I guess I'll never truly understand.

When Roger called Mello and Near into the office, it was for L to pose the idea that they work together more often and the world's greatest detective even went through the trouble to explain why he thought they were capable of doing so.

"You two cannot function alone," he said. "Alone you two are inadequate to be L."

This struck Mello straight in the heart. I could tell, I could even feel the tears fall from his face. There was no putting it back together. He was damaged beyond repair.

"But together… You have the power to surpass anything and anyone. Two boys so gifted, one with nothing but determination and drive flowing through his veins, as explosive and devastating as a bomb in both brainpower and emotion …" Mello looked up at his mention, tears still brimming at his lower eyelid. Each one cascaded to the floor as fiercely as he was gripping his hands into tight fists.

"And another who thinks everything through, leaves no variable unrecognized and uses all of his intellect to make decisions and work out extremely difficult problems all through sheer calculation…" Near didn't even as much as turn his head.

"These two ferociously clashing personalities intertwining… would become the sun and moon of the crime world. The power would be nearly unstoppable." L paused for an uncomfortable amount of time. Mello squirmed slightly in his chair, trying to keep his gaze away from Near, who wasn't as much as recognizing his presence. The pale, emaciated boy clicked another piece to his favorite puzzle. Mello seemed to be aggravated by each new snap as it happened, like a prod to his already severed complacency.

Near finally finished this puzzle and all was silent for a few seconds. Blank and unsurprising like the puzzle itself, Near's voice rose from the illusionistic distance, "I understand, and I agree with you… but you, Mello and I all must be under the same conclusions of how an… 'experiment' of that particular theory would work out."

"And what would that be Near?" L challenged.

Near picked up his Optimus Prime figurine in one of his hands, and Megatron in the other. Unwaveringly, he stared into the webcam, brought the dolls in front of his face and smashed them together with such a brute force that Megatron's head blew right off.

"Is that enough of a distinction?"

L's voice was that of someone who was chuckling like a complete bastard.

"Near, if you are worried that Mello will hurt you, you can be assured that I have taken that into account and I have the ideal solution."

"I'm sorry to interrupt this conversation, but there isn't anything that would keep me from destroying Near if you left him alone with me for over 48 hours." Mello fumed.

"I beg to differ." L crowed. "What about…" He whispered this last part, but it sounded more like a joke to him than a serious matter. Did he just bring these two in to torment them because he was bored?

"…Intimacy?"

Both of the faces of the boys before him dropped onto the ground.

"Oh please, you can't tell me you've never thought about it…" He waved the issue.

"IT HAS NEVER EVEN CROSSED MY MIND!" Mello shouted, flushed and spirited. A listless, cadaverous Near just sat and stared wide eyed at Mello, whose face was remarkable, to say the least. His demeanor started to return to normal as he stared blankly at Mello, who was yelling protests at the web camera, which kindly laughed at his very real anger.

The truth of the matter is, of course it crossed Mello's mind. This diary is straight, undisputed proof of that.

But Near… never before had he really looked at Mello and saw something he had any claim to touch or to look at.. Mello was a piece of art, a complete masterpiece of humanity, and Near wasn't more than the wall. This was how he felt.

But to be attributed to something that was in anyway like Mello, something that finally had the elitism to get near him… he felt the urge to touch him.

'Whatever was so magnificent about a wall,' Near used to think. But I think he finally realized that being just a wall doesn't get you to number one in this house.

So it became that he found the courage to try again. No formula, no calculations; he was equipped with nothing but the blush on his face when he caught Mello off guard and placed his lips gently on his cheek.

Mello's face turned an indescribable red, and his eyes lit up like an uncanny lantern.

"Never thought of it, huh?" L chuckled, but Mello didn't even seem to hear him as Near backed away from him and looked at the ground. His face was different… it barely resembled the cryptic Near that the orphanage knew. This was the cracked Near that only Mello knew existed.

He needed to say nothing. He didn't even need to think. His body just moved by itself, and he had Near in his arms. He had the unconquerable boy on his lips. He needn't tell me, he wouldn't have anyway. No one got to have his same satisfaction as he entered a surprised Near's mouth with his tongue. No one felt the same twisted happiness Mello did when he heard Near whimper under his control.

No one.

"Do you understand, now? Mello is the only one that gives Near any initiative, puts any fuel into him to convince him to finally act! You, Mello, are the only one who Near can ever wholeheartedly trust! And Near is the only person who can make Mello sit down and use his head, by creating this destructive competition in the first place! Never have you worked so hard in your life, never have I seen such execution of your absolute brilliance! You two are the only people who were made to complete each other that I have ever seen. Why would I contact you if I wasn't almost 100% convinced that the succession of L would fail otherwise?"

The boys separated, and I don't think I've ever seen Mello with such a raw, clear emotion on his face as the voracity he had for Near right then. There was obviously only one thing on his mind, and one emotion in his heart. Near was shivering. He was never faced with such ultimate judgement, with such impacting words. It was crushing his complacency.

But these things were not meant to be.

"…Never…" Mello mumbled a second time. "It's impossible." He said more clearly, staring right into Near's eyes, bearing witness to the everlasting pain he was causing Near.

He let himself watch Near's closely guarded heart demolish underneath the one person he ever entrusted it to. He let it happen. He couldn't stop himself.

He said ever since that say that it was the war's fault.

However, Mello could have ended the war right then, if he agreed that there wouldn't be a winner.

He refused.

It's Mello's fault.

The ongoing war, even after he's gone, it's all Mello's fault.

But why hadn't he even bothered to enlist me as his adversary?

It's all Mello's fault.

* * *

_Matt angrily threw the book __down; even knowing his work wasn't complete. He didn't care about the book or the readers. He cared about himself, because he was a child. Because he liked only Mello, and trusted no other, he didn't care about anything but why his friend, his _best friend, _would leave him behind._

_The completion of these clarifications is for another date. _

_Matt left the room, and the book wept._

* * *

_FIN_

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Mello is one psychotic bastard. _

_Hello and goodbye you lot. I decided to come back and end Forevermore formally, not because I have lost interest or stock of story, but because of time- both in hiatus and in lack on account of schedule. I also feel like I have communicated the root purpose of this story: that being that Mello is crazy for Near and just plain fucking crazy. It explained what it needed to and it's fitting and simple to end Forevermore here, and allow it to prick at hearts as it pricked at my own. _

_I love Mello/Near, and I always will, and I will Forevermore be proud of this story and thankful for its reception. You all have been wonderful and thoughtful in your reviews which is all I could ask for in an audience. Thank you, and everything and everyone who made this story possible! It's been real; song parodies and all!_

_Love you for ever and longer,_

_Sam_


End file.
